A Champion and his Queen
by dominicgrim
Summary: The continued love story of Champion Garrett Hawke and Pirate Queen Isabela. Set in the same universe as the Grey Trilogy and Dragon Age Love and Legacy. rated Teen for violence, language and some sexual situations. I do not own Dragon Age, I just play here. M Hawke/ Isabela. Carver H./OC, Bethany H./OC
1. Seventeen Years Ago

**A/N: I have been talking about this one for a while now, and now it is time to get it started. This will be a Male Hawke/ Isabela story. It is a follow up to my story **_**Dragon Age: Love and Legacy**__**,**_** and **_**The Grey Trilogy**___**if you have not read them, you might not understand some of the things that are happening, especially involving Bethany. Well without further ado, I present **_**A Champion and His Queen!**_

**Dragon Age: A Champion and his Queen.**

**Chapter 1: Seventeen Years Ago**

The waves lapped gently against the shores of Rivain. The yellow sand and dark brown rocks jotted the coast, gulls screamed overhead as the sun sunk like an orange ball beneath the horizon.

Two figures stood on the sand, a man and his young daughter. He was tall broad shouldered with dark skin and raven hair; his eyes were golden and flashed dangerously when in combat. The little girl had his eyes, but took more after her mother, a fact that the man thanked the maker for. She would be a beauty one day, like her Mother.

The man frowned.

This is why he trained her, beauty was both a gift and a curse this close to Tevinter. Slave hunters were always on the look out for young girls to drag back to the imperium.

_His daughter would be prepared,_ he thought…

_She will never be easy prey._

The man watched patiently as the girl performed the dance of blades, the moves and training sequences that had made him a celebrity in the arenas of his homeland. He had been teaching her these sequences since she was eight, now four years later, her muscles performed the moves flawlessly.

The man could not be more proud.

His name was well known throughout Rivain, he was one of the finest knife-fighters in the north. He had grown up poor, and had been forced to survive by his wits. He learned what he could where he could, and over time his fame had grew. The dueling rings in Rivain were always packed when he fought, people eager to bet on him, or pay to watch him lose.

The fighter did not lose very often.

Twelve years ago he had taken a wife. When she had come with child he had been ecstatic. A son, he thought, a son to pass on his skills to, a person to carry on his legacy.

The Maker it seemed had a strange sense of humor. He blessed the fighter and his wife with a daughter.

The man had been disappointed, at least until he had held the babe in his arms. His heart had broken with love when he had stared down into those golden eyes…

She had been born with his eyes.

He had dotted on her, he knew that, she began to follow him around where ever he went. She was definitely a daddy's girl, and worshipped the ground he walked on. At first he had been hesitant when she showed interest in the dueling arts, but her persistence had worn him down.

She took to the blades like a duck takes to water, she learned fast, and absorbed his knowledge far quicker than he would have expected.

She had surprised him, he would admit that. She was faster than he was, and was not above playing dirty to get the job done.

Have honor my dear, he had taught her, but prepared to put it aside if you must. The dead have no use for honor, and I intend to keep you alive.

Thedas was a dangerous place; he intended to see his little girl prepared.

IOI

She finished the sequences, her eyes blazed with excitement, she could see the pleasure radiating off of him.

She had been flawless; he had not had to correct her once…not once.

"Very good," Father said smiling, "very good indeed."

"Do you have anything else for me to study Papa," she said gamely, "a new sequence, more footwork?"

The old fighter chuckled.

"You have passed beyond the need for my training sequences," he informed her, "You changed sequences three times during the dance, and you did it flawlessly," the man's grin widened. "Any opponent you face will be hard pressed to keep up with you."

The girl beamed, bathing in her Father's praise.

"Can I go to the arena with you Papa?" she asked, "I would like to test my skills against a real opponent."

The old fighter grimaced.

"Please Papa;" the girl said excitedly, "Can I go with you to the Arena?"

IOI

The man sighed.

He knew this question would come up soon.

He had feared it.

His daughter was still innocent of the ways of the world. He had done his best to shield her from the ugly realities of life here in Rivain. The coin he earned kept his family well fed, and his reputation protected his wife and daughter.

In the arena, his daughter would stand alone. It was a hard road to walk, it could lead to fame and fortune, but it also stole something from you…something precious.

Perhaps he loved her too much, but that was the way he had felt.

He was not ready to see the light fade from his daughter's eyes just yet…not yet.

She had her whole life to be an adult, let her be a child for a while longer…

…let her be innocent for a while longer.

"Soon enough my dear," he promised.

Her face fell slightly.

Her Father chuckled.

"Let us return home," he said placing a hand around her slender shoulders, "You have done well today. One day I suspect you will be known as the sharpest blade in Rivain."

The girl grinned, his denial of her momentarily forgotten.

"No one will even be better than you Papa," she said, "No one!"

The old fighter grinned.

Few things in this life could truly make him smile, his wife was one…

…his little girl the other.

One day he would lose her, he accepted that, a man would come into her life, and she would forget her worship of him and turn to someone new.

It was a bitter draught that…but one every Father had to accept.

He was pleased to know that he would not have to fear for her. The skills he had given his daughter would make her a predator, never prey. He had seen too many young girls beaten to death by drunken louts.

His daughter would never suffer that fate.

He pitied the man who tried to hurt her.

IOI

The two walked across the sand, hand in hand. He smiled down proudly at her.

She looked happily up at him, some of that faded when she saw how serious he looked.

She tried to cheer him up.

"I love you Papa," she said.

Her Father smiled.

"And I love you my Naishe," he said proudly, "Never forget that."

And the girl who would one day become Isabela, the Pirate Queen of the Eastern Sea never did.

IOI

A cold winter wind blasted the village of Lothering. The wind keened like a wailing child, shaking the trees.

Malcolm Hawke, apostate, mercenary, and now a farmer, stood in the bottom of a rock quarry with is eldest son.

Garrett Hawke looked very much like his father. The chasind blood of their forebears darkened both their skin, their dark brown hair though cut short was always unruly, and the same golden brown eyes stared curiously out at the world.

Malcolm frowned.

He wished that his son had only inherited his looks, alas that was not so.

Like Malcolm, Garrett possessed the gift of magic, or as some would call it the curse of magic.

Malcolm intended that his son never see it that way. Magic was a part of them.

It was nothing to be ashamed of.

"Focus son," he whispered.

The boy gritted his teeth, and furrowed his brow. He whispered the ancient words as mages had whispered them the earliest days of magic.

Fire flickered in the twelve year Old's hand.

Malcolm nodded.

Two weeks ago he had caught his son putting his hand in one of candles. He had been frightened at first, but quickly noticed that the boy felt no pain. The fire burned in his hand without any ill effect.

His wife Leandra had gasped, she knew what this meant.

Garrett had magic in his blood.

Leandra's reaction had scared the boy. The fire in his hand rose, threatening to consume their farm.

Malcolm used a calming spell on his son. He smiled and tried his best to console the boy.

"You are not a freak or a monster lad," he had said, "You are gifted, special, that is all…just like I am. I will teach you to control this gift. You have my word, bit you must not fear it. Fear will destroy you if you let it."

Garrett had nodded, and hugged his Father, much as he had done when he was small.

Malcolm welcomed it, he was proud of his son's strength.

Malcolm gave his wife a knowing look. He knew she was frightened, but she had to be supportive for the boy's sake. As an apostate, Malcolm had always feared being taken by the Templars, dragged back to the tower, or killed.

Now Garrett also would also face that fate. He would need to be clever if he wanted to survive, but it was possible. Malcolm was proof of that.

Garrett was his Father's son, he could do it to.

Bethany and Carver, Garrett's twin siblings had dealt with the news in their own way. Bethany had apologized with tears in her brown eyes. She had always feared losing Father to the circle, now she would worry about Garrett too. Carver had grumbled that it was not so special, and went back to his reading. That night at dinner, Mal had caught Carver glaring at the candle flame, trying to manipulate it with his mind.

The flame did not even flicker.

Mal was grateful for that.

Carver was always competing with his brother; Bethany kept them from coming to blows, but…

This was one thing that Mal hoped that Carver and Bethany did not inherit from him.

The twins were only eight, if they had magic, it would not manifest for another few years. Malcolm prayed that it never did, magic was a fearful gift. He would train Garrett, but he would see the twins spared that life.

_The life of an apostate was never easy._

IOI

Garrett felt the flames rise around him, the air shimmered with heat.

The feeling, the sensation…it was hypnotic.

Light danced off the stones of the abandoned rock quarry. Malcolm stood back, watching his son cast his first spell.

Garrett was intent to impress his Father.

He wanted to show him just how powerful he was.

"Easy," his father called out, "Don't let it burn out of control."

The boy gritted his teeth. He closed his eyes and tried to reign the flames back in.

Magic roared through him, he thought he could hear voices whispering in the back of his mind.

Do not listen to them, his father had warned, they are the voices of the fade, liars…they will trick you every time.

Garrett obeyed; he trusted his Father's wisdom.

In this…Father knew best.

Malcolm had been so busy watching over his son, that he did not see the giant spider scuttling out of the shadows.

The attack came seconds later.

The spider lunged at Malcolm. He tried to cast a spell but one of the spider's fangs sank into his forearm.

Malcolm had always warned them about the giant spiders that lived around Lothering. The venom made the mage woozy, but not incoherent, his arm was paralyzed, and the rest of him would soon follow.

His only thought was for his son.

"RUN RETT!" he cried, "RUN!"

The boy turned the flames blazed wildly around him.

_No…not my Father!_

"Get away from him!" the boy howled at the beast.

The spider did not acknowledge him, so lost in consuming its prey.

Garrett Hawke lashed out with his magic. A jet of flame struck the spider, it squealed and fell away.

Malcolm whispered a healing spell; it pushed back the spider's venom.

The beast was maddened with pain. Its black beady eyes glared at the boy in fury.

It tried to leap.

Garrett thrust his hand forward.

The spider exploded.

Garrett grinned; this victory only awakened his hunger.

He wanted more.

IOI

An inferno consumed the quarry.

Malcolm raised a shield to keep from being consumed.

His son was losing control, become lost in the magic.

He would not allow that!

"Rett calm down," he shouted, "It is over lad, calm down!"

Magic turned the boy's brown eyes red with power.

He did not hear his Father's words, only the power coursing through his veins.

Power and fury!

IOI

Garrett was lost in the magic, it was…intoxicating!

He never wanted to stop!

_The power…it was so great…I feel…_

**I FEEL LIKE A GOD! **

A cold wind nearly knocked him down; he tried to summon more flames to no avail.

The cold intensified.

Garrett glared.

_**Who would dare!?**_

Father stood stern faced before him; he summoned the winter cold down on the quarry, drowning his son's flames.

"You will stop Rett," Father shouted over the wind.

"YOU WILL STOP NOW!"

"No!" the boy growled.

Father raised his hands. Winds knifed into Garrett.

He gasped at the sheer force of it.

The cold blew the boy off his feet, the magic fled, leaving his cold and shivering.

He looked up at his father; the cold stern look on his face shook the boy out of his daze.

"Yes you will." Father said coldly.

Garrett blinked, his mind coming back to him.

_He had…he had almost…_

_**Oh Maker!**_

He looked at his Father, he…he felt so…ashamed.

"Father," he whispered, "I…I am sorry! I did not mean to…"

Tears came to the boy's eyes, tears of fear and regret.

Malcolm took his son into his arms.

He held the boy, just letting him cry, letting him mourn the innocence that he had shed today.

"It is okay," Father whispered, "It will be okay."

But Garrett knew better.

_It would never be okay again._

IOI

Malcolm and Garrett returned home quickly. It was likely that the light of those flames had been seen in Lothering.

The mage wanted to be far away from that Quarry, should any Templars come to investigate.

They had left no evidence of who had been there, and the winds would erase any evidence.

Still they would have to be watchful for a few weeks.

If the Templars became suspicious, they would need to move…again.

The apostate sighed; he hoped that would not happen.

They were just starting to make a home here.

He looked down at his son; Garrett had said nothing since leaving the quarry, too lost in thought.

Malcolm's mouth was a grim line; the next few months would not be easy for the boy, not easy at all.

He would say nothing of the spider attack to Leandra, or how Garrett had dealt with it.

As far as he was concerned the matter was closed.

The mage shook his head.

_His son was strong, but with power came temptation. Garrett would have to learn more than just the basics of magic._

_He would need to learn what to fight for._

Mal looked down on the boy; he gave him a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry I bawled like a baby," the boy winced, "You must be ashamed of me."

Malcolm gave him an understanding look.

"I would only be ashamed if you had not stopped," he said, "Remember Rett: Magic is to serve and not rule over, we cannot let our power rule us, and we must use it to serve what is best in us…"

"Not what is most base," the boy said finishing his father's old motto.

"So you have been listening," the older man said dryly.

The boy snickered.

"Only a little," he replied.

Malcolm laughed then, as first magic lessons went, this one was not bad, not great, but not bad.

Garrett looked up at is father, all joking gone from his eyes.

"I have a lot to learn," he said.

Malcolm smiled slightly, pleased that his son understood the seriousness of what had happened tonight.

"Yes, you do," he agreed.

It was the boy's first lesson in magic, and Garrett Hawke, one day the Champion of Kirkwall, would never forget it.

**A/N: So what did you think? Next chapter we jump into modern Kirkwall, and catch up with Garrett and Isabela. See you all next time!**

**DG**


	2. 9:37 Dragon

**Chapter 2: 9:37 Dragon**

Garrett Hawke, champion, apostate, and occasional dabbler in blood magic was not a happy mage.

In truth there was very little in Kirkwall to be happy about these days. Knight-Commander Meredith continued to squeeze the mages and the nobles and city guard were powerless to stop her. Appeals made to the Grand Cleric continued to fall on deaf ears. Garrett had spoken often with Sebastian, who the Grand Cleric still viewed as a good student and advisor, and even he had come up empty.

_Have faith Hawke_, Sebastian had advised, _have faith in the Maker._

Hawke ground his teeth together.

He was rapidly running out of faith and patience as far as the chantry and the Templars were concerned.

Tonight had been especially bad. He had been out with Aveline, Varric, and Fenris keeping up their ritual of twice a week patrols. Gangs still continued to harass both High and Lowtown.

The Champion felt it was his place to remind them of the folly of that, to correct them.

They were near the Viscount's Keep when they encountered the girl.

That is when the worst part of his evening began.

IOI

The girl practically fell into his arms, dark haired and brown eyed. She was whimpering with fear, a crossbow bolt was buried deep into her shoulder.

She gripped the front of his leather robes with the strength of a person fighting for her life. Her eyes were wild like an animal at bay.

"Help me," she gasped, "Please help me!"

Garrett almost gasped, the girl looked so much like Bethany it was scary.

Bethany.

The thought of his brave little sister filled him with guilt. He had failed to protect her seven years ago, and she had died most ignobly, murdered by an ogre.

_He swore never to let that happen again._

The sound of booted footsteps alerted him to the girl's pursuers. Aveline and Fenris drew their blades, while Varric pulled his trust crossbow Bianca.

Five Templars entered the square, two of which were carrying crossbows. The girl squealed in fear.

Garrett Hawke glared at them. He pushed the girl behind him. He could heal her after he had dealt with her attackers.

_These bastards never learned._

"You want to shoot someone," he growled drawing his staff, "Try shooting me!"

The Templars hesitated at first, they recognized him, then their training took over.

They all raised their bows.

"**Don't shoot him!"** a cold authorative voice ordered, "At least…not yet."

Hawke glared up, he knew who had spoken even before she stepped out of the shadows.

The Templars lowered their weapons; they parted to let a woman in Templar armor step forward. Though she was in her late forties now she still carried herself with the spryness of a much younger woman, her blonde hair was still free of gray, and her eyes as blue and icy as the sea itself.

The woman smiled at Hawke.

"Hello Champion," Knight-Commander Meredith purred.

Hawke did not lower his staff, the poor girl behind him sounded like she was hyper-ventilating.

He understood that fear, he had lived with it every day since he was twelve, his popularity and position as champion protected him somewhat from Meredith's wrath, but that protection only went so far.

He had to be careful here.

He glared at the woman.

"Knight-Commander," he said respectfully, "A little late to be out hunting apostates, is it not?"

The woman chuckled.

"It is never too late to serve the will of the Maker," she replied, "I have not been a hunting in sometime, I feared I was getting out of practice."

The girl whimpered.

"What has the girl done?" Aveline demanded. She used her Guard Captain voice, the one that turned raw recruits' legs to jelly. The red haired woman could be very intimidating when she wanted to be.

The Knight-Commander did not even flinch.

"The girl is accused of blood magic," the Templar woman said, "She will be tested and examined."

"**I've done nothing!"** the girl wailed, "**I'm not even a mage! I swear!"**

"Your family fear otherwise," Meredith frowned, "Let us have her champion and I will leave you to your work."

Hawke glared at the Templar woman.

The girl forced Hawke to face her, he responded to the terror in her eyes.

She looked so much like Bethany.

"Don't let them take me!" she wheezed, "She is mad…evil! Kill her! You must keep me safe!"

"I'm waiting Champion," Meredith said coldly.

Fenris snarled, his markings beginning to glow. Normally the Tevinter elf would not be so hostile around Templars. He would wish to know if she was a mage as well.

_Why was he so ready to kill for this girl?_

"These assholes need to be taken down a peg Hawke," Varric said glaring at Meredith, "Bianca is ready to sing them a permanent lullaby.

"If the girl has committed a crime, it is the guard who should deal with her," Aveline growled.

"Stay out of this Captain," Meredith said, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Or perhaps you are all in league with her!"

Garrett shook his head…there…there was something wrong.

He whispered a spell to cleanse his friends of spells. They all gasped…Varric and Fenris looked like they had woken from a daze. Aveline shook her head, trying to clear it.

_He had freed them all from the girl's control._

Garrett glared down at her. He recognized that he had fallen for a glamour. The girl though dark haired looked nothing like Bethany now. She had used her powers to invade his mind and play on his sympathy.

_She was a blood mage._

"Kill the bitch," she hissed hungrily.

Garrett stepped away from her.

"I might have helped you if you had not tried to manipulate me or my friends," he growled.

He turned to Meredith.

"Take this one," he said, "and make sure she does not harm anyone else."

The Knight-Commander grinned triumphantly.

"NOOOO!" the girl howled, "I will not let you take me! You will all…"

She gasped and doubled over; flames began to play over her shoulders burning her clothes.

Rage filled her up, making her strong changing her.

Garrett did not hesitate.

He drove the bladed end of his staff through the Abomination's gut.

It gasped the transformation not complete.

"Damn…damn…you," she gasped.

The creature fell to the cobblestones, wheezing and glaring at her enemies.

Meredith stepped forward drawing her sword.

"May you find the Maker's forgiveness one day girl," the Knight-Commander said.

The abomination spat blood at her.

Her sword took the girl's head, her body exploded into fire and ash.

Hightown fell silent once again.

Meredith cleaned her sword; she looked over at Hawke, a pleased expression on her face.

"The chantry thanks you for your support Champion," she said dryly, "I have always known you were one of us."

Garrett said nothing.

The Knight-Commander smirked.

"Let us return to the Gallows," she ordered her fellows, "The Maker's work has been done this night."

The Templars withdrew, leaving Hawke and his companions alone.

Garrett ground his teeth in frustration.

Was this what being champion meant? Killing the foolish and the desperate to stay out of the Templars' reach?

He hated it.

"You okay Hawke," Varric asked, a concerned look on his face.

Hawke was as still as a statue.

"You did what was necessary," Fenris reminded him, "The girl doomed herself the moment she turned to demons."

Garrett knew that but he did not have to like it.

"What now?" Aveline asked.

The Champion shook his head.

"We head home," he said, "I've had enough of Kirkwall for the night."

IOI

Garrett sighed as he entered the estate. The dull light from the hearth in the main room illuminated it weakly.

My estate…he thought…my cold lonely estate.

It was not an empty home, but it was not full either. Carver lost to the Grey Wardens. Mother murdered three years ago.

He sometimes wondered if he was cursed, destined to lose all that he cared about until it was just him alone in this cold dark hall.

The bark of dogs shook him from his melancholy. Despite his anger and self-loathing for his failure tonight, he could not help but smile.

Garrett Hawke was a Fereldan to his core. Mabari always put a smile on his face.

"Hello Rabbit," he said, "Hello Brazen."

The two large dogs bounced happily. Rabbit his old faithful warhound wagged his stubby tail, Garrett scratched his old friends graying muzzle. Far from being a pup anymore, his hound was starting to show his age.

Much like his master, Garrett thought.

Brazen was different; the pick of a litter of puppies sired two years ago by Rabbit and one of Lord Rhinehart's coursing hounds. The golden furred pup took after his father in more ways than one.

He always looked before he leapt, and was fiercely loyal to both his sire and his master.

The pup was a testament to his old friend's strength and courage.

"Good evening Master."

Garrett looked up.

Orana, his elven maid-servant stood at attention before him. He had rescued the blonde girl from her cruel Tevinter masters almost five years ago.

"May I take your cloak, your staff?" she asked, Can I get you some wine…tea perhaps?"

"What are you still doing up Orana?" he asked.

The girl shrugged.

"I thought I would be needed."

Garrett shook his head.

"Orana you are not a slave anymore," he reminded her, "I do not expect you to wait up for me when I'm out late."

"I'm still your servant Master Hawke," she said cordially, "You are too good to me. I'm eternally in your debt."

"I think your little Orana is sweet on you Garrett."

The girl blushed; she turned to curtsey to the newest arrival in the room. The newest arrival in the estate, truth be told.

Garrett smiled; it seemed he would not be alone tonight after all.

The young woman in the robe and night gown was pretty, with blue eyes and red-gold hair. She carried herself with nobility that few saw, especially when she was dressed in leather armor and carrying her longbow.

"Are you here to scold me as well Charade?" Garret asked.

Charade Amell smiled sweetly at him.

Charade was Garrett's cousin, the daughter of a Lowtown barmaid and his Uncle Gamlen; Charade had led an interesting life. Smuggler, treasure seeker, and as quick and smart as a whip, the girl had manipulated Hawke and his companions into helping her locate her long lost Father. Garrett may not have liked Uncle Gamlen very much, but that did not stop him from bringing Father and daughter together. After that, he had invited her to stay in the estate. In truth he was grateful for her presence. It was just him Orana and the Feddics here now. He could use the company.

_Not that charity was his sole reason for having her live here._

Garrett sighed at that realization.

With so few Amells left, it was a necessary move. He was technically Lord Amell now, but the magic in his blood made in unlikely to find a good noble woman to wed him and give him an heir.

_Not that he had any interest in the noble flowers of Hightown. No, he preferred dangerous women with fire in their souls and spines of silverite. _

If he could not find a wife, then his cousin became even more necessary.

Charade had no magic, and had a blood claim to the Amell name. She would make a fine Lady one day, and when she married her children would continue their noble bloodline.

Garrett was grateful for that; he had sacrificed much to restore their family. He did not wish to see that sacrifice end with him.

"Good evening cousin," the girl said kissing him likely on the cheek. "How was the patrol?"

He gave her a grim look.

"Fine, until the Templars chased some poor blood mage girl into my arms." He replied. He sank into the nearest chair by the fire. Rabbit and Brazen lay at his feet.

Orana brought tea, while Garrett told Charade the full story.

When he had finished Charade leaned back thoughtfully. Garrett almost smiled at the thoughtful expression on the girl's face. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.

Charade was far more cunning than Uncle Gamlen was, thank the Maker.

"The Knight-Commander is testing you," she said thoughtfully.

He looked up at her.

"Eh," he replied.

She gave him a sly smile.

"It is interesting is it not that she chose the night of one of your patrols to go out hunting herself, and… it is even more interesting that she chose a girl who reminded you of family. Is that not a fascinating coincidence cousin?"

Garrett considered what she had said. Had Meredith set him up tonight, to test his loyalty? Had she expected him to pick a fight with her? All of Kirkwall knew about Bethany's death during the Blight. Varric had made sure of that with all his tall tales. Plus, the woman had spies everywhere, they watched Garrett closes. It would not have been difficult to find a mage who resembled his sister and arrange for them to meet.

The more Hawke thought about it, the more he agreed with Charade's version of events.

Meredith **had** set him up.

_It made sense._

The Knight-Commander had spent the last three years trying to discredit him. She would love nothing more than to have him selling wares in the Gallows courtyard with a tranquil brand on his forehead. If he was eliminated than her control of Kirkwall would be complete.

Hawke nearly chuckled; he feared that he was becoming paranoid, of course, if someone **truly **was after you, was that not a good thing.

He had not taken the bait tonight, but it had been a very near thing.

Charade sipped her tea.

"The Knight-Commander will not be so sloppy next time," she advised, "She had preyed on your emotions tonight, next time, she will likely strike directly through your loved ones."

Garrett nodded, he was not worried about Charade, his cousin could take care of herself, but the rest of his friends had to be warned.

"You should tell Tallis as well," Charade suggested.

Garrett winced.

"Cousin?" Charade asked.

Tallis had been Garrett's on again off again lover over the last year. A Qunari elf and member of their internal security force the Ben-Hassrath. The red haired woman had aided Garrett during that mess at Chateau Haine. Fiercely loyal to her people, she was also a bit of a renegade. She did not blame him for the death of their Arishok, the two had become friends, and lovers a few months later. She popped up every now and then, bringing trouble into Garrett's life, and fire into his bed.

I'm a great consort Hawke, she had said playfully once.

In that the elf had not lied. Tallis was a tigress between the sheets, almost as good as…

**No…don't think of her**.

Garrett sighed, it got easier as time went by not to think of…her.

Tallis had vanished several months ago, a group of chantry seekers had come sniffing around Kirkwall, looking for Qunari sleeper agents left behind when the Arishok had been defeated three years ago. Whether to protect him or those Qunari agents, his lover had fled.

She was gone, leaving Garrett alone…again.

He should have been used to that by now.

"Tallis should be safe enough," he informed Charade, "I doubt she will be returning to Kirkwall any time soon."

"Did you quarrel?" she asked.

"No…she…I…we…she has her duty and I have mine."

Garrett clenched his fists.

Sometimes he thought he was destined to be alone, to fall forgotten on some battlefield alone.

Charade leaned forward, resting her hand on his knee.

"Cousin, I'm so sorry. If I had known she…"

"It is alright," he said giving her hand a warm squeeze.

Garrett was grateful for her presence; unlike his other companions Charade had no agenda besides simply living her life. She cared nothing for vengeance, the restoration of her people, or any of the other goals that his other friends held to.

It was refreshing to speak with someone with no strings attached.

A knock sounded at his door.

Orana rose to answer it.

Charade glanced up at the shadowed hall.

"Who could that be at this hour?" she asked.

Garrett chuckled. Considering his night, he would not be shocked if Andraste herself was outside his door.

As it turned out it was an elven courier, one of Athenril's people. Garrett still kept tabs on the underworld element of the city. The Champion paid well to stay informed.

The fringe heard things that others did not.

The elf said nothing, he did not even remove his hood and cloak. He presented Hawke with a letter, in exchange for a sovereign. The man bowed and hurried away.

If Athenril had sent one of her people this late at night, the news must have been pretty important.

Garrett opened the letter. A single sentence was scrawled on the page.

His breath caught in his throat.

"Cousin?" Charade asked.

Garrett said nothing.

"Cousin what is wrong?"

Garrett rose he asked Orana to fetch his cloak and staff.

He was going back out.

"Cousin…is something wrong?"

Garrett gave her an intense look.

"I don't know," he said, "But I intend to find out."

She was about to offer to accompany him, it would take her only minutes to grab her leathers and bow, but he was gone before she could speak. Brazen and Rabbit accompanied him.

Charade looked down at the letter forgotten on the floor.

She scooped it up and read it, wondering what had caused her cousin to react in such a way.

The letter was only one sentence, it read:

_Isabela is in the Hanged Man_

Charade sighed.

She had heard the rest of her cousins companions speak of the pirate queen. Garrett's lover back before the Qunari attack, she had fled three years ago without a trace, breaking her cousin's heart.

_Now she was back._

Charade shook her head.

Poor Garrett, she thought.

Maker help them, she thought.

Maker help them all.


	3. The Return of the Queen

**Chapter 3: The Return of the Queen**

She returned to Kirkwall like she had left it three years ago…

Like a thief.

That did not bother her, she was a thief after all, she had raided estates and ships all across the waking seas. Many titles had been bestowed on her over the years. Pirate Queen, Sharpest Blade in Llomerryn, and Scourge of the eastern seas all of these names had been used to describe her.

Personally she preferred Captain…or simply Isabela.

Hooded and cloaked, she made her way through the darkened streets of Lowtown. She recognized that she still had many enemies in this city. The Qunari invasion that had ravaged the city had been her fault after all. She had returned and tried to make amends, but in the end flight had seemed like the wisest course of action.

_Have honor, but be prepared to put it aside if your survival is at stake._

Her Father had taught her that lesson, and she had learned it well.

Which was why she could not understand what she was doing here?

You made a promise, her conscience reminded her, a promise to a good woman who deserved better than the fate she got. She owed Leandra Hawke a debt.

_She was intent on repaying it._

None of the gangs and thugs that haunted Lowtown bothered her, she suspected that this was Hawke's doing. The Champion of Kirkwall never liked how dangerous Kirkwall could be at night.

That…and he enjoyed the excitement of combat, and the rewards she offered him later.

Isabela smirked, many times she had gone out with Hawke on his nightly patrols, and more than a few times she had ended those patrols in his bed, naked and writhing, wallowing in sin and decadent pleasure.

That is all it should have been, she thought, pleasure without strings, but somewhere during their trysts something changed.

_She began to feel stirrings…_

…_and that was why she was here._

She found herself standing before the Hanged Man, one of the dingiest and most dangerous taverns in Kirkwall.

She breathed deeply. The scent of cheap booze, sweat, and danger filled her nose, with just a hint of the aroma of Corff's mystery meat stew.

The pirate queen smiled.

It felt a bit like a homecoming, and it was bloody good to be home.

IOI

She strode through the door like she owned the place, lowering her hood and glancing around the bar.

Few took notice of her entrance; those that had known her went back to their drinks. She watched for signs of anyone watching her too close. She was not sure if there was a bounty on her head in Kirkwall these days and she did not want to have to get Corff's floor all bloody on her first day back.

Corff was behind the bar as always, cleaning a clay tumbler. He glanced her way and smiled.

She grinned and approached the bar.

"Evening Corff," she said in her most throaty purr.

"Isabela," he replied, pouring her a glass of Antivan brandy, her usual for the start of an evening.

She downed the drink in almost a single gulp. She placed a silver piece in front of him.

"What will this get me?"

The man chuckled; these were the first words she had said to him almost seven years ago.

"It will get you drunk enough," he replied, pocketing the coin.

"Then make them strong and keep them coming," she replied merrily, "I…"

A drunken sailor saddled up beside her, she could feel his foul breath on her neck, his hand on her bottom.

Isabela scowled.

She whirled around, grabbing the man's hand and shoving his face down into the bar.

Corff shook his head.

"He is new Isabela. He didn't know."

"Which is why he is going to leave here breathing," she spat angrily.

She broke two of his fingers and sent the bastard sputtering off.

Another lesson of her Father's came to mind.

_Be a predator…never prey._

Corff poured her another drink, a smile on his face.

He seemed pleased to see her, either he missed the excitement that followed her or he had missed staring at her tits.

It could probably be said that both were true.

"Your slipping Rivaini," a familiar voice said behind her, "If some prick had grabbed your ass in the old days, you really would have busted his balls."

Isabela turned to face the speaker. The dwarven businessman, and storyteller, had not changed in the past three years, the same clean shaven face, the short blonde hair and duster coat, and as always, Bianca the crossbow strapped to his back.

The pirate gave him her sexiest smile.

"I'm still sober Sweet Thing," she purred, "Give me an hour or two and I will be back to rare form."

IOI

Varric Tethras chuckled.

Nice to see some things had not changed.

Part of him had always knew that Rivaini would come strutting back into the Hanged Man one day, or at least he had hoped that she would.

He hated to admit it, but his stories had become a little too tame in the last three years. He needed to spice things up, and one thing that Isabela could do better than anyone else was spice things up.

"What brings you back to Kirkwall?" he asked.

"Gold and giggles," she replied, but Varric knew her well enough to know that she was lying. He made a living selling bullshit to people.

He knew it when he heard it.

"Daisy should be in here soon," he said, "Fenris and Anders too, if they are not too busy with whatever it is they are doing these days."

Isabela gave him a look, an unspoken question on her face.

Varric coughed.

"Hawke returned home for the night," he said, "He might be there if you want to go see him."

Isabela's guard dropped for a moment, Varric got the barest glimpse of fear and doubt, then it vanished behind the pirate's smirk.

"I'm sure he would not want to see me." She said, "I'm sure he's got half the noble flowers in Kirkwall lining up at his bedroom door."

"It isn't that simple," Varric frowned, "Look Rivaini, Hawke…"

A small shape slammed into Isabela, a squeal of absolute delight split the dark room.

Varric started to pull Bianca, but stopped when he heard Isabela laugh.

He recognized the battering ram that had slammed into the pirate queen.

A Dalish battering ram named Merrill.

"Isabela," the Dalish woman shrieked, "Praise the Creators! I thought that was you. It has been so long, what have you been doing? Are you all right? Do you need our help with something? I'm sure Hawke will help you, no matter what happened in the past. He really…"

"Calm down Kitten," the pirate laughed, "Try to catch your breath."

"Oh…right…sorry," the elf said releasing her from the bear hug.

Isabela grinned at her two friends. The rest of their little circle had tolerated her, but these two looked upon her with actual affection, with the exception of Hawke, these were likely her best friends in this overcrowded mess of a city.

And Hawke had become her lover, so she did not think that he counted as a friend anymore, especially with the way she left.

"Is everything okay Isabela?" the Dalish asked her large green eyes wide with curiosity. "You are not in trouble are you?"

"I'm always in trouble Kitten," the pirate smirked, "The trick is knowing how to get out of it."

Varric snickered.

"Wise words Rivaini, hey…want to play some cards, a hand or two of wicked grace? I have a deck handy."

Isabela grinned.

"We could use mine," she offered.

The dwarf did not bother to answer; he knew what using one of Isabela's card decks got you.

_Empty pockets._

"No thanks," Varric grinned, "I would at least like the **chance t**o win tonight."

Isabela laughed.

The dwarf knew her so well.

The three found a seat near the back. Varric handed the cards to Merrill who shuffled them expertly.

Isabela nodded, she could not help but be impressed.

"Bury the top three cards Kitten," she requested.

The Dalish gave her an arched look.

"You think I would cheat you?" she asked innocently.

"Not at all," the pirate chuckled.

Varric smirked; he knew what was going on.

Isabela had been a mentor of sorts to the elf.

Varric knew that was both a good and a bad thing.

Merrill was not as a successful a cheat as the pirate queen, but she usually walked out with a full purse.

Varric never bet big against either of them, he kept more of his money that way.

The door to the Hanged Man flew open, this time everything stopped when the customers looked up.

Even Varric and Merrill paused.

A cold evening breeze blew in making the pirate queen shiver.

"Close the door friend," she said not bothering to look up. "We don't want to freeze in here you know."

"Hello Isabela."

The cards almost fell from her hand.

She recognized **that **voice.

Garrett Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall shut the door. Everyone went back to their business, or at least pretended to.

Varric coughed loudly.

"Come on Daisy," he said to the elf, "Let's go get a drink from my private stores."

"But we were just about to start a hand?" the Dalish pouted.

"We can play in a bit," he said, "I think this deck is missing a card or two, help me come and find it."

Merrill's ears twitched cluelessly.

She clearly did not understand what was going on, but recognized the need to follow the dwarf from the tone of his voice.

"Um…okay then," she said, "We…we will be back shortly Isabela."

"Bye Kitten," the pirate queen whispered.

Both the dwarf and the elf left her to face Hawke. Though Varric did not intend to go too far, he had been imagining this reunion for the last three years.

His inner storyteller needed to hear it, for good or ill.

It was necessary part of the narrative.

Personally, he thought, I hope they both survive it.

IOI

Isabela did not even look him in the eye. She had known that she had to face Hawke again sooner or later, but she kind of hoped that she would be a little less sober when she did.

She rose from the card table, and went back to the bar.

Hawke followed her over.

She hated to admit it, but he looked great, the black champion robes he wore did nothing to hide his that sinful body of his, those broad shoulders and flat belly. His short unruly hair and beard were only now starting to tinge with gray. It made him look more distinguished somehow. The honey brown eyes of his radiated a mix of anger, pain, and loneliness.

She tried to ignore that.

Garrett leaned casually on his staff. Two Mabari warhounds sat near the entrance, awaiting their master's orders. She recognized Rabbit, but the pup was new.

Corff brought her another drink; he also sat a tumbler down for Hawke. Garrett took it and nodded in gratitude. Isabela was surprised, she had expected that the champion had become too good for the Hanged Man's brew.

_Too good for me._

That old fear tried to spring up. She pushed it back, for her own sake.

For Leandra's sake.

She had made a promise.

"Seeing you standing there, it is almost like you never left," he said flatly.

She worried her lower lip with her teeth.

"I needed to get away," she said. She dared to glance again into his eyes.

"You look good," she said.

"So do you," he replied.

She chuckled.

"If you are referring to the rosy glow of my cheeks, it is likely the whiskey."

Hawke frowned at her.

"Don't," he said.

"What?"

"Don't hide behind jokes."

She squirmed where she was standing.

Seriously, what did he want from her, an apology, a kiss off?

She had never meant to hurt him. When she had left…it was for the best.

She hoped that he would have come to realize that.

"I couldn't stay Hawke," she said, "Not after the Qunari thing."

"You did not have to leave," he said.

She chuckled.

"With half the nobles who lost family to the ox-men calling for my blood, it wasn't even an option for me to stay."

"I would have protected you."

"The Templars would have used me as an excuse to drag you away," she replied, "Champion or not."

"You saved the city," he said.

"No you did."

"You returned their book."

"You did not need the book Hawke," she shrugged, "I saw you fight. You and Aveline tore through those Qunari. She was like a woman shaped battering ram."

Isabela's faced turned sad.

"You two were always a better match anyway."

Hawke was shocked at that.

"Aveline is my friend Isabela that is all she and I ever was."

"You wanted her," the pirate said.

"Once," He confessed.

"If she had not been so blind you would have **had** her," the pirate growled, "Instead you settled with me."

He rolled his eyes.

"I have not though about Aveline like that in years Isabela, **not for years**," Hawke sighed, "and besides she is married now."

"Really," the pirate smirked, "Lucky her."

Hawke growled low in the back of his throat.

Isabela did not back down. She waited for him to strike her.

It was not the first time a man had hit her, and she actually deserved it this time.

She had **always** deserved it.

She had always run from her just punishment, ever since the day they had carried her father home.

Since the day she hunted down the man who ordered it.

The day she had made the man pay, she had gutted that fat bastard like a pig.

The day that Naishe had died, and Isabela had been born.

The pirate gripped her tumbler so tightly she thought it might break.

Hawke looked at her, his eyes pained and pleading.

"Isabela please," he begged, "talk to me."

Her eyes narrowed.

_She should never have come back here._

_She had been a __**fool.**_

_I'm sorry Miss Leandra,_ she thought.

_I'm __**so**__ sorry._

"You do not need me Hawke," she said angrily, "What does a champion need with a bilge rat like me? There have been women since I left, don't deny it."

He paused, surprised by the heat of her anger. He shrugged.

"At least you're honest," she said dismissively.

"And what about you?" he asked, his own temper starting to flare, "Have you joined the chantry since we parted."

The pirate did not respond. There had been men, none that she had taken to her bed of course. She had spent some time with the Grey Wardens two years ago; some of them were pretty hot. Then there had been Alistair, the King of Ferelden, **the sodding King of sodding Ferelden!**

Nothing had happened between them, but he had been hurting after his Dalish wife left him when he took the throne. She could have offered herself to him for comfort, but she had not.

_Since Hawke…she had not wanted anyone else._

_It was stupid._

_It was __**pathetic!**_

The two stood facing each other, anger, pain, and loneliness warred in their eyes.

It was Hawke who broke away first.

"I…I suppose there is nothing left to say," he whispered.

"I suppose so," she replied, motioning for Corff to bring her another drink.

He looked at the floor, it was strange, he had fought the Qunari Arishok.

Yet, he found himself afraid of the woman before him.

"I would have protected you." He grumbled.

"I never needed your protection," she whispered, "I can take care of myself."

"So I see Isabela," he growled.

He stormed out of the Hanged Man.

Isabela did not even flinch when the door slammed.

"I guess this means no makeup sex," she said quietly to herself.

She shrugged.

"Didn't think so," she murmured downing her drink.

_Perhaps that was for the best._

IOI

Hawke returned to his estate. Fury boiled in his guts and rage simmered in his veins.

He could hear the demons whispering to him, offering revenge, offering the power to enslave the woman who had hurt him, to bind her to him forever, to make her wail whenever he was not touching her.

_He ignored them; he did not need them to get the things he wanted._

Isabela…he…he did not deny what she had said, there had been other women. Women like Tallis had intrigued him, but they all had one fatal flaw. That flaw was the one thing, which denied any chance of them, having a future with him.

They were not Isabela.

Hawke sighed heavily.

He was a fool, he knew that. He needed to let this go!

_It had been three years, three long years._

_It was time to move on!_

Even though he feared that he could not.

The Champion of Kirkwall shook his head. He was a survivor of the fifth Blight, a deep roads explorer, a Kirkwall nobleman, and the bane of the Qunari, but it did not change one simple fact.

He had fallen in love with Isabela.

Garrett Hawke sighed.

_He was __**so **__pathetic!_


	4. Fourteen Years Ago

**Chapter 4: Fourteen Years Ago**

Naishe was frightened. In all her fifteen years of life she had never been so frightened. The girl's heart pounded in her chest, her fingers felt cold, and it was all she could do to keep her breathing even.

The docks of the port city where her family lived had never been a safe place. Sailors, slavers, and mercenaries carried about their business, with no mind of the young woman in their midst.

Naishe took a deep breath trying to steady her nerves. The girl caught a glimpse of herself in a full rain barrel. The sight shocked her. Gone was the coltish girl her father had trained, in her place stood a young woman. She had had what her Mother called her growth spurt. Her chest was fuller as was her hips. The roundness of her child's features was giving way to adulthood.

She admired herself, for the purpose of her mission she had dressed more daring then she ever had in the past. Her white smock was cut low in front showing off her features. A pair of thigh high boots covered her long legs. A blue bandana covered her raven head.

Her Father's daggers were sheathed on her belt; they had seen no use since he had died…

…That fact was about to be remedied.

The girl sighed nervously.

Father would have had a fit if he could see her now, walking alone among the toughs and sailors that wandered this place.

The girl's amber colored eyes narrowed. The pain and loss hitting her like a blow in the stomach.

_He is dead, my Papa is __**dead!**_

Father was now gone, and all she had left was to see that the men who took him paid for it.

_Her __**justice.**_

_Her __**vengeance!**_

It had happened two months ago, Father had been competing in one of the tourneys where he had made his name. Most fighters there respected him, for almost twenty years he had stood at the top of his game. He never issued challenges where he would not be challenged himself, and did not accept challenges from fools who he was sure to dominate.

The men respected him for that; the girl saw that in the people who greeted her father in the streets. He was respected, and perhaps even…a little feared.

She was proud to call herself his daughter, though he could be a bit over protective.

Naishe had still never been allowed to attend those fights. Father was always trying to protect her. She knew that he wanted what was best for her, but she wanted a chance to prove herself to him, to make him proud.

_She could only do that in the dueling ring._

She did not know everything that had happened that night. The night he was taken from her, she only had heard the stories from those who were there. Father had just defeated some sailor fresh off a ship from Llomerryn. The man had dwarfed him, but he had heard of the man's skills and accepted the challenge.

_Her Father always welcomed an eager challenger, a man who would push him to his limits._

The man's shipmates had bet heavily on their fellow, their captain too. All expected to see the young fighter knock off the seasoned veteran.

The man was good, her Papa had been better. It had been a hard battle, but in the end, her father had triumphed.

_He was the sharpest blade in Rivain after all._

The man's shipmates had not been pleased, their captain chief among them. He quarreled with her Father, but that had ended when the bouncers showed up and removed them.

The only fighting allowed in the arena was **in **the arena.

Father had stayed late that night, drinking with his old friends and opponents. They respected him for what he was, and how he had conducted himself in the fights. He was great, but not arrogant about it.

Father had never had to brag, he let his blades do the talking.

People were always coming up to him, offering him a pat on the shoulder or to offer and buy him a drink.

That is why he never saw what was coming.

A young fighter, with more balls than brains had taken money from the Antivan and his crew. He walked up to Father and placed a hand in his shoulder…

Then he drove a knife into her Papa's throat.

The fighters tried to save him; they even called for the apostate who lived above the arena hoping that his healing magic would work.

It was no use; the fighter had pulled out his dagger after the first strike.

Father died in seconds.

The other fighters seized he lad, they got him to confess before slitting his throat. Her Father's friends had considered hunting down the Antivans as well, but the owner of the Arena forbade it.

The Antivan Captain was a member of the Felicisma Armada, and a known associate of the Antivan Crows.

They could not touch him or his men, not without risking serious reprisals from either group.

They had to settle for the life of the foolish young fighter.

That night…the arena fighters had carried her Papa home for the last time. Mother had been devastated, and Naishe had just stood there, staring in shock.

_Not her father, not her Papa!_

She had lost something that night, something precious.

She mourned those losses, even as she felt a cold simmering anger take root in her breast.

_This was not __**over!**_

_She would see justice __**done!**_

IOI

It had taken her months to piece together what had happened, and to learn about who had paid for her Father's death. She needed to wait patiently, eventually the bastard would return.

Naishe would be waiting, ready for him.

Mother fell apart after Father had died. They did not have to worry about money, at least not right away. Father had been a wise businessman; they had enough money to survive for quite a while.

The woman who had raised Naishe was slowly fading away. She brought home men, and didn't even resist when they struck her over some imagined slight. Naishe did try and protect her; she even broke one of their arms once, trying to defend her Mum.

The older woman grew angry, telling her young daughter to mind her place.

The girl did not understand.

_Why was Mother angry at her?_

She eventually stopped trying, she stayed focused on her goal of finding the man who had killed father and sent her Mother into such a horrible melancholy.

After two months of listening and waiting, her patience finally paid off.

IOI

Naishe entered the tavern; it was loud, smelly, and dirty. Humans, elves, and dwarves went about their business while elven whores applied their trade at the bar.

The air of danger, the excitement of the place made her blood race; it was a strange sensation after living such a sheltered life.

A drunken sailor grabbed her arm, he grinned lecherously at her.

The murderous glare she shot him made him back off quick, that and her hands reaching for her blades.

Tonight she was not Naishe, tonight she was vengeance…she was death.

And it had come to claim a single victim, but if the man interfered it would claim two.

She spotted her target, the fat Antivan pig in the Captain's coat at the back of the bar, flanked by two of his bully boys.

Naishe swallowed hard.

_This would not be as easy as she thought._

She knew enough about men from her mother's warnings to come up with the plan. She would tempt the Captain into a room, with the promise of…well…of feminine company.

She set her mouth into a grim line.

_He would never leave that room alive._

He would live just long enough to know that he had died for the cowardly murder of her father.

That…would be justice.

Naishe stalked her prey.

The girl who would one day be known as Isabela was still innocent of men at this point. She did not carry herself with the confidence and arrogance that would draw men like a moth to a flame. She was a walking sack of nerves.

The Antivan glanced up at her, appraising the dark haired beauty before him.

He chuckled.

"And whose little girl are you?" he asked.

The comment nearly set her off, but she held her temper.

Father had taught her not to be put off by a few arrogant words.

She had a target, she would seize it.

She smiled nervously.

"I'm looking to join a crew," she said her voice cracking, not sounding at all confident. "I heard yours is the most profitable one in port."

The fat captain smirked.

"That it is," the man leaned back in his chair, the wood groaned under his weight. He gave Naishe an arrogant smile with yellowed teeth.

She tried to appear dangerous and cold.

It was not working that well.

"The armada pays its people well," he said, "You do what is expected of you and you can have what you want. Food, drink, men," the man's smirk widened, "Women."

Naishe blushed, the thought of her with another woman.

It sounded so…dirty.

_Focus,_ her conscience chided, _you have a target, take it down!_

"I can fight," she said gesturing to her daggers.

"Can you now?" the man purred, "Do you know how to sail?"

"I'm a fast learner," she replied.

One of sailors glared at her.

"Want me to put this little whore off Cap'n?"

Naishe tensed, her hands rested on her blades.

"No Angelo," the captain said dismissively. He gave her an appraising look.

"You're a little young for this kind of work."

"I'll learn," she replied.

He nodded thoughtfully.

"Twirl for me," he said gesturing with his finger.

"What?"

"Twirl for me," he repeated, "now."

Fear made her heart leap, you never turn your back on a target, but if she was to lure him where he needed to be.

_She would have to do it…it did not matter._

She complied; she could almost feel the man's lecherous eyes on her.

It made her seethe with a silent rage.

"Nice," he purred, "Tell me girl, what do they call you?"

"Naishe," she replied.

The captain snorted.

"Maker! The names the Rivaini give their children," the man shook his head, "You will need a new name if you are to serve in the Armada my little beauty. Something that…"

The man paused, he scratched his chin thoughtfully. He gave her a knowing smirk.

"Isabela," he whispered.

The girl gave him a curious look.

"Isabela?"

"Isabela," he repeated, "it means little beauty my little tart, and it is a more fitting name for you I think, before some young buck breaks you in anyway."

Naishe shivered. _Isabela?_ The name meant nothing to her, and the fact that the man who had suggested it had her father murdered just made her hate it even more.

The captain gave her a hungry look.

"Tell me Isabela," he whispered, "What are you prepared to do to earn your place in my crew?"

The girl touched his hand shyly, she tried to imitate the way that mother had touched father's arm, to show intimacy, to put the Antivan pig at ease, but truth be told…he made her sick.

"I'll….I'll do what I must," the girl responded.

That seemed to be the right answer.

"Come with me girl," he said rising from his chair, "We shall go into the alley outside. You shall…show me your… skills," the man grinned ferally. He licked his lips expectantly, savoring the meal to come.

It made Naishe shiver.

"I'll be back in a minute boys," he replied, we will see if this little one has what it takes.

Naishe let him take her by the wrist, her heart raced. She tried to ignore the wolf whistles and cat calls behind her.

She had what she wanted, that was all that mattered…

Right?

The captain led her into the mouth of an alley outside the Tavern. He practically threw her into the shadows.

She fled deeper, her smile was now genuine, she grinned with wolfish anticipation…

…Just a little farther…just a few more steps.

The captain did not realize the danger he was in, all his attention was on her body, not her blades.

It would be his undoing.

"Come here little one," he sneered, "Let me test your... skills."

She stopped.

"Come here," he ordered.

Naishe smiled.

_Come and get me._

The fat man lunged for her, he pulled his own dagger.

**"Come here you whore!"**

Naishe snapped.

She lunged. She was shrieking like a fade spirit, Papa's blade her in hand.

She deflected the captain's clumsy charge and sent him spinning into the stone wall.

The big man was dazed, but kept his blade up, ready to fight defensively.

Naishe's training took over.

_She showed him no mercy._

_NO MERCY!_

Disarming him was easy; her blade rose and fell, rose and fell.

Hot blood splashed her face.

She continued to shriek.

**MURDERER!**

**BASTARD!**

**FOR MY FATHER!**

**FOR PAPA!**

The world faded into a red haze, everything turned red. The Captain gurgled, the blade slicing his throat, and once again plunging into his chest.

Naishe did not stop, not until he lay on the cobbles, his eyes empty and staring off into the void.

The world came back to her. She was gasping for breath, her gloves soaked with the Antivan's blood.

Naishe fought the urge to retch. The body lay against the wall, the steam rising from the wounds.

_Maker…I'm going to be __**sick!**_

"HOLD!"

Two guardsmen appeared. They must have heard her screams.

They took a look at the body, and then their eyes fell on her.

They narrowed in righteous anger.

No, he was the murderer! I was only avenging my Father!

"Come along whore," one of the guards ordered grabbing her wrist, "You have an appointment with the magistrate, then the rope."

Naishe's eyes widened, no... they…they could not mean?

_The rope?_

_**NO!**_

Her training took over.

She whirled around, plunging her father's dagger into the man's armpit, the man gasped as the long blade hit his vitals. He died gasping in pain.

His fellow drew his sword. He swung on Naishe, who rolled under his blade. She spun as her father taught her, slashing the weak spot between the man's knees and thighs.

He fell to his knees.

She spun again.

Her blade sliced first his belly, then his neck.

The guard fell joining his fellow and the Antivan in death.

The two murders had taken less than a minute.

Naishe stared in horror at the carnage she had wrought.

The young girl ran.

She tried not to think about what had just happened.

The captain had deserved his fate, but those two men…

She tried to get their faces out of her mind.

It had not been her fault!

They should have just let her go!

The girl did not stop running until she was out of the city. She had stashed a change of clothes down by the coast, the place that she had trained with her father.

She jumped into the waves; they rolled over her washing the blood from her skin and clothes. She only emerged from the sea when the water had battered her clean. She ripped of the gloves and shift, grabbing a clean one from her bag. She took out her father's daggers and polished them to a shine.

No one would be able to guess the bloody business they had done tonight.

She wrapped the clothes in a leather parcel, she would take it further down the coast and wait for the tide to go out, it would take all the evidence that remained with it.

She took a shuddering breath.

Rivain was a dangerous place; with luck no one would find the bodies until morning. By then she would be back home and none would be the wiser.

Would anyone suspect her? Unlikely, it was unusual in Rivain to find a woman skilled enough to kill three men with a pair of daggers. They would likely suspect bandits. The captain resisted, the girl had run, the guards showed up, but were overpowered.

Naishe shivered, that is what she would say if anyone discovered her.

She looked down at her hands, they were still shaking.

_Murder._

_Murder._

Murder.

I'm a murdered.

She rubbed at her hands; she…was their still blood there?

She ran back to the water and scrubbed them, scrubbed them to they were red from the salt, and her skin burned.

Naishe left the coast line; there was a farm not far from here. Friends of her Father owned it.

They had typically given the two of them a place to rest when they were out late.

She hoped they would still be willing to put her up for the night.

The young woman sighed, she would never think of herself as a girl again.

_A girl could not have…_

_**No,**__ don't think of __**it!**_

Naishe swallowed hard.

_Isabela._

The name swam up into her thoughts.

It meant little beauty, an appropriate name for a female pirate.

_It was an appropriate name for a murderess._

Naishe whimpered.

She closed her eyes and whispered her father's name one last time.

_Saying a final goodbye._

_His little girl joining him in death._

She took a deep breath and blew it out.

The last of Naishe went with it.

When the young woman opened her eyes she was not Naishe anymore.

She was Isabela.

Maker help her.


	5. Foolish

**Chapter 5: Foolish**

She should have left Kirkwall; after she had spoken with Hawke she just should have cut her losses and left the city that would have been the smart thing to do.

Sadly, Isabela was not feeling very smart right now.

The pirate queen sighed as she watched the Amell estate from a perch on one of the nearby rooftops. She had discovered this place five years ago when a group of Carta dwarves crashed through the skylight of Hawke's bedroom, supposedly on a mission to kill him. What had started out as a simple assassination attempt by the Carta soon spiraled out of control with the arrival of the Grey Wardens and Hawke's little brother Carver. That little jaunt ended with them trapped in some ancient warden prison, and concluded with them killing one of the original darkspawn, one of the Magisters who had violated the Black City and betrayed the Maker.

The pirate queen sniffed.

Isabela would have called it bullshit if she had not lived it herself.

She and Hawke had been so close back then, so close that she began to back away, afraid that she was going to lose her heart. She couldn't bring herself to admit that at the time, but could definitely do it now.

It was funny how time gives you perspective on certain things.

After that little adventure, she had made sure that no one would be able to sneak up on Hawke again along this route, though that did not mean that she completely destroyed it.

She liked the view from up here, which is why she left this ledge alone, you could not reach the Amell estate from here, but that did not mean that you could not see, that you could not watch.

So now, here she stood, watching over his estate like some lovesick peasant girl.

_She was so pathetic._

_Just leave,_ her head kept telling her, _he doesn't want you anymore…just go._

Her heart however, would not let her do it.

_She had made a promise to Leandra Hawke, she intended to keep it._

The normal morning traffic crowded the Viscount's Way. The nobles and merchants went about their daily business as they had always done. The ruling class of Kirkwall liked to think of themselves as unflappable. It had been almost three years since the death of the Viscount and the defeat of the Qunari.

The city, at least on the surface had not changed much, of course there had not been armed Templar patrols marching through the city back then. The nobles could deny it as much as they want but they were living in an occupied city.

Knight-Commander Meredith had taken over.

"Citizens of Kirkwall…hear me!"

She looked down curiously, a lone elf in mage robes stood on the steps of the Viscount's Keep. He looked to be in his late forties with gray tinged black hair, a mage staff with many serpent heads grasped in his right hand.

Isabela recognized him. First Enchanter…Zino…Ortho…no Orsino…yes…that was his name, the pirate queen smiled pleased that she had remembered.

She was looking down on First Enchanter Orsino.

Now what was this all about?

A crowd had begun to gather, the mage waited until he had a large enough audience.

Then…he started talking.

"Good people, please hear me," he began, "I know you fear us. I know you fear me, but I beg you to listen. Knight-Commander Meredith has gone beyond the scope of her duties. Her troops keep your city from you, denying your rights as free citizens. She has blocked the election of someone to replace Viscount Dumar, and holds fair Kirkwall in her iron grip. No longer can she be seen as a friend to this city, because all she cares about is holding onto the power she has gathered in the last three years."

Isabela smirked.

She had to give the old boy credit, he had some balls, but unfortunately it was only a matter of time before one of Meredith's bully boys reported this little rally to the Knight-Commander…

"First Enchanter Orsino!"

_Wow, that was fast!_

Meredith parted the crowd, four bodyguards flanking her. The Templar woman glared at the elven mage, who glared right back.

Meredith glanced at the crowd around her.

"You are hereby ordered to disperse," she shouted, "This gathering is against chantry law!"

"Since when is it illegal in Kirkwall for free citizens to speak their minds Knight-Commander," Orsino demanded.

Meredith's scowl deepened.

"You are not a free citizen First Enchanter," she growled, "I will not have you fomenting rebellion."

"I only seek to remind the people that it is their right and duty as citizens to choose a new Viscount."

The knight-commander sneered.

"Are you forgetting who put the Dumars on the throne of Kirkwall in the first place Orsino? Without chantry support, no noble will ascend to the throne of this city. It is the Templars who will have final say in this matter, to make sure that the next leader will succeed where that fool Dumar failed."

"You overstep your bounds Knight-Commander!" Orsino growled, "It is the Templars' duty to guard the chantry and the circle, not dictate the terms of politics!"

"You will be silent mage!" she spat.

Uh oh, Isabela thought, you could almost feel the tension in the air down there. All it would take would be one little spark…

And this argument would get real physical real quick.

"What seems to be the problem here?"

She saw Garrett emerge from his estate, his two Mabari warhounds in tow. Though not dressed in his champion robes he still cast an intimidating figure.

"Champion," Orsino said bowing, "Praise the Maker! You see Knight-Commander, even the champion realizes that you have gone too far."

"Stay out of this Champion," Meredith growled, "The first Enchanter is growing dangerously close to rebellion, you do not want to be seen as an accessory to his…slanderous ranting."

Garrett leaned casually against his staff. He did not seem that worried, but Isabela knew him well enough to know that he was anything but relaxed.

This situation was an inferno about to explode.

She worried about him; if Meredith and her boys decided to make a move against him, she was not sure she would be able to make it to his side in time.

She hoped Garrett knew what he was doing. Sticking one's head in the lion's mouth was never a good idea.

She held her place and listened.

_She was hoping that Hawke was not being as foolish as she was right now._

He looked right at the Templar and mage. He needed to be smart here; otherwise things would go totally off kilter.

He smiled at the two combatants.

"I see your position First Enchanter," Hawke said diplomatically, "but causing all this trouble will not get you what you want."

"I only seek justice for my fellow mages champion," Orsino said passionately, "I only seek justice for us all, yourself included."

Hawke nodded.

"I'm grateful for your work First Enchanter, but there are proper channels."

Orsino fell silent.

Meredith smirked.

"Of course, you are not entirely in the right here either Knight-Commander."

Her stare turned downright murderous.

"You have overstepped your bounds," Garrett said, "And your methods have become far more…extreme in the last few years."

Meredith snorted dismissively.

"Everything that I have done is for the good of this city," she growled, "Maleficarum have had fee reign in this city for too long. If anyone should respect what I'm doing here, you should champion."

Meredith's eyes turned sad.

"Your own Mother was murdered by a maleficar was she not?"

Hawke glared at her, she could see his fist clench in rage.

It was a rage Isabela shared. Leandra Hawke had been a good woman; she would not have wanted her body held up as an example for Templar zealots.

The pirate queen's hands drifted to her daggers. If a fight broke out between Garrett and Meredith, she knew where her blades would be going.

It would fly straight into the Templar bitch's skull.

Hawke remained calm mostly, but she could tell that he was angry. It was in his posture, the way he leaned against his staff.

Being a duelist meant recognizing an opponent's body language, and she was quite familiar with Hawke's body, both while enraged or impassioned.

This was definitely one of those rage times.

He did not take his eyes off the Knight-Commander; his voice was soft and dangerous.

"Do **not** use my Mother's name to validate your extremism Knight-Commander!" Hawke growled, "You would not like the results."

The older woman shook her head.

"The dead are my validation Champion," she said, "Every dead body points to what I have told you all for years. Mages are a threat to us all."

""You see demons everywhere Knight-Commander," Orsino snarled angrily, "We are not your enemy! We are…"

The crowd began to part again, nobles and merchants parted like a gate. A small frail looking woman in chantry robes moved through the crowd. Meredith's bodyguards fell to one knee.

Isabela smirked.

It looked like the Chantry's big girl was now here, the one person that the Templar bitch could not bully.

_Grand Cleric Elthina._

The Knight-Commander nodded to her superior, but the cold glare never left her face.

She clearly did not appreciate the old priestess being here.

The woman looked at Orsino, Meredith, and finally at Hawke.

She gave them all a wan smile.

"My children," Grand Cleric Elthina said warmly, "Whatever is the problem?"

"You should not be here Grand Cleric," Meredith growled, "I had things under control."

"Of course you did Meredith," the Grand Cleric replied.

"Your grace," Orsino said dropping to one knee, "I have many things to discuss with you."

"SILENCE MAGE!" Meredith snapped.

Elthina silenced her with a single raised hand.

"Ah Orsino," the Grand Cleric said sympathetically, "For too long you have labored for the good of your people."

"I'm only trying to do my duty your grace," the elf responded.

"I will meet with you tonight," she promised, "It is the least I can do for the Maker's mage children."

"Thank you your grace," he replied.

The Grand Cleric looked down at Meredith's bodyguards.

"Gentlemen," she said warmly, "Will you please escort the First Enchanter back to the Circle please, as gently as possible."

The Templars rose with a nod. Orsino fell in step with them, he left without further argument.

Meredith glared at Elthina, for a moment Isabela thought the Templar was going to pull her sword on the old woman.

That would have been a big mistake.

"Grand Cleric," she hissed, "The first enchanter is guilty of trying to incite rebellion! He must be…"

Elthina silenced her with a sad look.

Meredith's mouth snapped shut.

"Things are getting out of hand here Meredith," she said, "Go back to the Gallows and calm down like a good girl."

Isabela chuckled.

To call the look on the Knight-Commander's face murderous would be an understatement. She clearly did not like being treated like a child in front of half of Hightown.

Alas, there was nothing she could do.

Meredith might rule the Templars, but they still served the chantry…

…and Elthina was the chantry here in Kirkwall.

The knight-commander stalked off in a huff. It was clear that this was not over. Elthina may have diffused this situation for the moment, but…

It was only going to get worse.

Isabela left her perch; she began her journey back to street level.

She had made a decision.

Hawke might not want her here, but she could not leave.

He was in danger.

He had stood beside her during that business with the Qunari. He had even offered to let her keep the book, but she had run off anyway.

How could she turn away now that he was in danger?

She could not.

She owed Hawke a debt; he had saved her life from the Qunari.

The least she could do was save his life now.

IOI

Hawke sighed as the crowd in front of his home dispersed.

The Grand Cleric had stopped things from coming to head, at least for now they had peace.

The champion shook his head.

He did not expect this peace to last.

Things had gone too far, Meredith and Orsino were both spoiling for a fight. Elthina would not be able to support whatever the First Enchanter asked for, she needed to balance the chantries needs against the circles desires.

She would listen to Orsino's complaints, but in the end it would mean nothing.

Meredith would tighten her grip on the mages over this, she would not be able to punish Orsino directly, but she could hurt the circle.

That would only make things worse. The more desperate the circle became, the harder it would be stop this from turning into blood and chaos.

Hawke found himself wondering if this was what Meredith wanted.

Did she intend to push the mages into revolution, just so that she could justify the right of annulment?

He did not kid himself, he was not be a member of the circle, but if push came to shove. Meredith would want him taken out as well.

_Mages are a threat to us all._

Hawke did not doubt that Meredith included him with that statement.

He would not strike first, no, he would not risk Charade or his friends, but if Meredith did start a war…?

Hawke's eyes turned cold and dangerous.

_If she came after him, either personally or through his loved ones, she would regret it._

He would not start a war, but he would damn well finish it.


	6. A Return to Darkness

**Chapter 6: A Return to Darkness**

The late afternoon found Isabela back at her place at the bar in the Hanged Man. The pirate queen nursed her whiskey as she thought about the future.

She smiled slyly at Corff.

"Maybe I should go check my account at the Blooming Rose," she said conversationally, "I've been stuck in a bit of a dry spell lately, perhaps I need a little fun to shake things up."

The bartender chuckled.

"I'm sure they will welcome you back with open legs Isabela."

The pirate queen laughed. Corff wasn't much for jokes, but he always found a way to take her mind off her problems, whether with drink or chat.

Her expression turned thoughtful, she still wasn't sure how she was going to help Hawke with his problems. Things had gotten progressively worse between the two groups since old Viscount Dumar died.

There was definitely a storm on the horizon. A good sailor usually knew enough to batten down the hatches and prepare for the worst, or at least try to outrun it.

Sadly, Hawke was not the running type. He would plant his feet, draw his staff, and tell anyone who stood against him to do their worst.

It was brave…foolish, but brave.

She had spoken with Varric about this the other night. If it was just the Templars that would be one thing, but there were many mages in the circle who blamed Garrett for their plight as well. They thought he could do more as a free mage to aid their cause.

They did not understand that the champion was walking a tight rope with Templar swords for a safety net here. The chantry's attack dogs were just waiting for him to do anything mildly seditious.

When he fell they would be there to run him through.

Thinking of her dwarven friend gave Isabela pause. She had not seen Varric in here today. Usually he came in to check is messages and catch a quick lunch.

Something must have been going on; Hawke probably recruited him for one of their little adventures.

She frowned.

He would not be likely doing that for her anytime soon.

The door opened letting in the afternoon light, some of the patrons cursed but fell silent when they saw the person that had entered.

The law had just walked into the Hanged Man.

Guard armor, polished to a mirror shine, Ginger colored hair pulled back into a braid and held in place by a dark headband. Cold warrior's eyes scanned the shadows of the Hanged Man searching for someone.

They fell on Isabela.

The captain of the guard came towards her.

Isabela smirked.

"Do you smell righteousness Corff?" she asked, "The distinctive odor of a mannish ball-breaking do-gooder?"

The bartender chuckled.

The guard captain's eyes narrowed.

"Varric mentioned you were back in the city," Aveline Vallen-Hendyr said with a touch of distaste in her voice. She stood next to the pirate queen. Corff brought her a glass of water.

Isabela gave her a surprised look, water, in this place?

"I'm on duty," her old companion informed her.

"You are always on duty," the pirate queen said rolling her eyes, "Personally, I think you could do with a little more fun in your life. How you been Big Girl?"

"Fine Whore," Aveline said dryly, "Yourself?"

"Staying alive…so far," Isabela shrugged.

"Good."

The two women sat quietly, the silence of old friends, or perhaps, civil, respectful enemies.

Isabela's eyes narrowed.

"Am I under arrest?"

"Have you done anything that I should arrest you for?"

"Not lately." The pirate replied.

"Consider me…surprised," Aveline said.

"Heard you fitted yourself with the old ball and chain?"

"I got married if that is what you mean."

"The guardsman lad that was bending you over a basin," Isabela asked with a sneer.

Aveline scowled.

"His name is Donnic," she replied, "And what we do in private is no business of yours."

"That kind of business is a hobby of mine, or at least it was," Isabela grinned, "I could give you pointers to help spice up your fun in the bedroom if you like?"

The guard captain glared at her.

"Shut up whore," she grumbled.

Isabela grinned.

_She had missed infuriating the Big Girl._

"I'm not here to discuss Donnic with you," Aveline growled, "I came to ask for your help."

"Really?" it was the pirate queen's turn to be surprised.

_**This**__ I got to hear._

IOI

Aveline snorted, she did not like this. She had never been that fond of Isabela, and she certainly did not like how she had hurt Hawke, but sadly she was out of options.

She preferred to have another sharp blade between Hawke and the dangers that he was walking into.

Isabela was the only one that she could count on, with tensions the way they were in the city, she dared not go herself, lest she return to find Kirkwall turned into a Templar Mage Warzone. Plus, Isabela knew about Garrett's dabbling in blood magic.

The pirate queen would never report Hawke to the chantry.

_She knew what Aveline would do to her if she did._

The Guard Captain took care of her friends.

A hint of frown played over Aveline's features.

She had not realized it at the time, but when they had first come to Kirkwall, Garrett had been smitten with her. Looking back, she could see that the signs were there. The little comments, holding the door for her when they entered the Hanged Man, they all pointed to an affection that sadly Aveline did not feel toward him.

She and Hawke were friends. She loved him like a brother, but that was it. When she had finally worked up the courage to try and speak her heart with Donnic, Hawke had aided her, despite the pain he must have felt in doing so. He had finally blurted it out at the conclusion of her and Donnic's…well…the mess she had made of their initial courtship.

Hawke had been a true friend during that. He had even volunteered to give her away at her wedding to Donnic. He had stood with her like a true member of her family.

She would always love him for that

_Now if only his choice in women were better._

Aveline had not been pleased when she had heard that he had started sleeping with Isabela. The pirate was untrustworthy. She told herself that nothing serious would develop between the two. It was a purely physical thing; she didn't indulge in such relationships, but did not deny that others needed to from time to time.

She had not realized how close the two had become until that business with the Qunari exploded. Isabela had fled and Hawke had ended up nursing a broken heart. Aveline had done what she could for him, but in the end…there was nothing she could do but be there for him. She had been there for his other relationships as well. Tallis the most recent of them, none of them resulted in anything lasting, but that was Hawke. She just had to be supportive.

_Just as he was there for her after Wesley had died._

Aveline winced at the memory.

It had been Hawke who had slain Wesley. After her brave husband had been stricken with the Blight sickness, it had been Hawke who had put him out of his misery. Her friend had taken her first husband's dagger into his hand, and drove it into his brave heart.

There had been moments, on their journey from Ferelden that she had hated the apostate for that, but time had given her the chance to see his actions in a different light.

Hawke had confessed to her later that he had done it to spare her the pain of doing the deed herself. Aveline had loved Wesley. She did not deserve to live with his death on her conscience.

_He had done it to spare her the pain; it had been an act of mercy._

She had come to be grateful to him for it.

Now he was walking into danger…again.

She needed help, and that meant turning to Isabela.

Maker save them all.

IOI

Isabela smirked.

The thought of the Big Girl asking her help, it was delicious.

"What seems to be the problem," she said, "Need help with those social skills…or lack thereof."

Aveline glared at her.

"Hawke is going back to the deep roads," she said coldly, "That Thaig where they lost Carver."

Isabela's jaw dropped. After that business with Corypheus, she thought that Hawke had had enough of the sodding deep roads. The darkspawn were not some Lowtown thugs that you simply dismissed.

_They __**were **__monsters!_

"What?" she said.

"I said…"

"I heard you," Isabela growled. She had heard Varric relate that little tale many times. Garrett, Varric, Carver, and Anders had gone to that old thaig looking for treasure, and Varric's bastard of a brother had betrayed them, sealing them inside. They eventually fought their way out, but Carver had ended up getting tainted by the darkspawn. Garrett had had to give him to the Grey Wardens to save his life.

Carver was doing well with the wardens. She had encountered him about two years ago. He was an officer now, and even had himself a little love-barbarian girlfriend.

The fact that Garrett was risking his life by going back to that place…

"Why," she asked the guard captain.

"Why do you think," Aveline snorted, "To help someone, some Ferelden noble woman came asking for his help, her brother went down there to..."

Isabela cursed.

_Hawke that stupid, stupid bastard!_

He was going to get himself killed being so noble all the time.

She paid her tab to Corff and rose from her chair.

Aveline had likely never seen her move so fast.

"Where are you going?" the guard captain asked.

"Where do you think?" the pirate queen growled, "To cover Hawke's ass."

"He might not want you there?"

"Then he should not have put himself in that hole!" she growled, "Stupid bastard, hopefully he remembered to bring Anders' anti-taint draughts."

Isabela rushed out into Lowtown. She knew all the routes in and out of Kirkwall; she had memorized them back when she knew she might have to escape if the Qunari caught up to her. She could get ahead of Hawke and the others if she moved quickly.

She was sure of it.

The pirate queen cursed. She…she had never been so angry. Not since the day that Mother had…

She pushed those thoughts away. A single tear fell down her face.

_It had been more than ten years, and still that betrayal burned._

_You must follow the path you have chosen my Naishe, just as I must follow as the Qun demands._

Isabela cursed, her stupid Mother, the stupid, stupid cow!

_Don't think about the stupid bitch now, focus on helping Hawke._

Isabela hardened her heart. She focused, as Father had taught her to focus.

She had a target, now she had to reach it.

Hawke was heading into trouble, and she was going to be right there beside him.

_Foolish._

Maker, she really needed to have her head examined. Perhaps she should check herself into a sanitarium when all this was over.

She had to be crazy. That was the only answer that fit why she was doing this.

She was as stupid as Hawke was.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

IOI

Aveline watched the pirate queen go. Isabela had surprised her; she thought that she might have to convince their old companion to help.

It seemed that she had misjudged Isabela.

She could now return to her duties, confident that she had sent Hawke some help in the darkest of places.

She paid for her water and left the Hanged Man.

"Maker watch over you whore," she whispered, "May he watch over us all."

IOI

The exchange between the two women had not gone unnoticed.

In truth, very little of what Garrett Hawke's friends did these days went unnoticed. The Templars and mages both had their spies.

These however served neither of those groups.

They were all elves, three of them to be exact. They had come to the Hanged Man because of the Champion's relationship to Varric Tethras.

They had been watching for several months now.

"What do we do now?" the one female among them asked.

"What do you think," one of the males responded, "We report this to the Avatar."

"Do you think we should disturb her over this?" the other male asked.

His companions both glared at him. He sat in silence, chagrinned.

"If something happens to the Champion, do you want to explain to the Avatar why we did not?"

The elf paled. Their mistress was kind, but she had a temper, and the cruelty of the dread wolf.

_It was unwise to anger a mage, much less one who was also a demi-god._

"We report to the Avatar," he agreed.

"We report." The girl said.

"Indeed," their leader said, "We report, and let the Avatar decide how she wants to proceed."

All of them nodded in agreement.

The Avatar worried about the champion for some reason, with everything that the elves had seen in the last few weeks, it was unlikely that she would be able to escape making a journey to Kirkwall soon.

She had been avoiding making the journey because of the Templars, not to mention the Dalish elves that camped near the city, but the threat to the Champion would no doubt mean that she would come to look for herself.

It was her servants' job to pave the way for her arrival.

They left the Hanged Man.

There was much to be done.

**A/N: If you have not read my **_**Grey Trilogy**_**, you may not recognize all this Avatar stuff. I will explain it here in later chapters, but if you're curious and do not wish to wait, read **_**The Grey Year**_**, **_**The**__**Grey Return**_** and **_**The Grey Avatar**_**, it will explain everything.**


	7. Thirteen Years Ago

**Chapter 7: Thirteen Years Ago**

"Naishe?"

Isabela rolled her eyes, no one called her Naishe anymore. She had cast off that childish name over a year ago now.

Naishe was dead.

She was weak…

…and Isabela was never weak.

The sixteen year old had stayed in today, doing her chores and preparing the evening meal.

Mother had been gone again; if it had been to see another man Isabela might have forgiven her for it. Father had been gone over a year now. Mother needed to move on, to take a chance of finding some kind of happiness.

The girl's eyes narrowed in disdain.

She knew where her Mother had been all day.

She had been to the Qunari compound by the docks, listening to their priests, letting them fill her head with all their talk of how everyone who did not follow their code was nothing, just things, without being truly alive.

Isabela did not agree.

Technically, the Qunari should not have been able to have a presence here, the chantry was supposed to deny them any place to preach their heresy. However, the Qunari paid the city leaders well so that they could operate here, and as long as they did not pester the nobility, none of the leaders in Rivain cared.

Not that the Qunari minded, they wanted bodies to fill their army and fields. The poor and abandoned of Rivain served that purpose nicely.

People who felt lost were always welcome among them…

….People like her mother.

Mother strode into their small kitchen; she had that strange distant look on her face, the one she wore whenever she had returned to the compound.

Isabela frowned.

It was like the giant gray bastards took a little bit of her Mother's soul every time she went to listen to them. One day…she would likely not come home at all.

The girl worried about that, what would happen to her if her mother simply just left one day? Did she not care about her daughter anymore?

Did she not love her anymore?

She was not sure when Mother had started going to the compound. After she had killed that fat bastard a year ago, Isabela started spending more of her time at the arena. None of the fighters there knew who she truly was; she was simply a young girl looking to make her bones in the fights.

No one suspected that she was her father's daughter.

She had lost a few fights, but had won far more. Coin and respect was starting to be hers. One day she hoped to be as well-known as Father had been in this city.

Then she and mother would move out of this hovel, she would find better quarters for them, far better than any father had ever provided. She would have wines, silks, valets.

She would help mother remember who she was.

Isabela would find a way to bring her mother back, but first…she had to get her away from the blighted ox-men.

The girl mustered her courage; father would not have tolerated this, mother's infatuation with the Qunari lies. He had known what the Qunari were.

She turned to face her mother. Her mother's care-worn face, so much like her own, but now filled the strange light of Qunari fanaticism.

_She had to be strong, for both their sakes._

She straightened her back.

_Here we go._

"I do not want you to go to those…those…creatures anymore."

Her mother gave her a knowing smile, not the smile that Isabela had remembered from when she was a child, but that arrogant sneer that so many of the ox-women who preached the street corners wore.

The Tamassran were the worst of the Qunari, so self-righteous, so smug.

Isabela hated those most of all.

"You do not understand the Qun my dear," her mother said, "The Qun gives knowledge and purpose."

Isabela snorted.

"I know that they ship their good little converts out of the city," the girl replied, "I know they send them to labor for the glory of their cause."

"Is it so bad to seek purpose?" her mother asked.

"Mother,' she sighed, "Purpose is all well and good, but if someone takes you away from your home and forces you to serve them without payment or reward, that is called slavery. If you wanted to be a slave just sell yourself to the Tevinters."

"The purpose is the payment," the older woman answered, her eyes shone with the light of the true believer, "As for a home, wherever the Qun demands that you live, that is your home."

"People deserve to be free Mother," she growled, "to find their own way."

"The Qun is the way my Naishe," she said, "A thousand hands serving one glorious purpose. The Qun teaches that when we serve, we serve as one. No one wants to escape its purpose."

Isabela snorted. When she was thirteen, she and father had seen a convert who had tried to escape the Qun, the man's family had stolen him away from the ox-men, they had spent days working on him to try and restore who he was, but to no avail.

A few days later, the Qun caught up with them.

The Qunari had sent their soldiers in; they killed the man's family. They had killed them all, and the boy they had come to save just stood there and watched. He did not even raise a finger to save them.

When it was over, the Qunari officer asked him why he had not tried to fight them.

"It was not the will of the Qun," the boy had replied.

The Qunari officer had nodded and led the boy back to their compound, to a ship that was waiting.

The boy was never seen in Rivain again, and the nobles did nothing to pursue the issue, the reason for those deaths was gone, and the boy was a no one special.

The authorities did not care; they wanted no problems with the Qunari.

Those in power considered the matter closed.

She and Father had left quickly that night, before the ox-men decided they needed more converts.

She was trying to save her mother, to help her see the truth. She might not be Naishe anymore, but that did not mean that Isabela did not care for her.

She wanted her mother to be herself again.

_She wanted her mother back…**period.**_

"Until you decide to try something new, Mother," Isabela said, "After they choose a place for you, you cannot leave it. If you try they hunt you down and either reprogram you, or they..."

She did not need to finish that sentence.

Mother touched her cheek, Isabela leaned into that touch. How long had it been since she had been hugged by her mother, told that she was loved.

It had been a very long time.

"My poor girl," the woman cooed, "You are so lost."

Isabela felt hot tears in her eyes. She had missed this, the simplest act of affection.

Mother lowered her hand.

"Come with me to the compound."

Isabela's eyes widened.

What?!

"Come with me," Mother said excitedly, "Listen to the Tamassran. They will show you a grand new world! The Qun offers so much; your skills will be appreciated there. There is no reason to waste your time sneaking off to the arenas anymore."

Isabela's eyes narrowed.

"I'm trying to get us out of here," she said motioning to the room around them. "We deserve better than this Mother. Father would have approved of what I'm doing."

"Under the Qun you would have no need for such things. The Qun provides. We would have everything we need. You miss your father, but there would be no need for that with the Qunari. The Qunari have no need for families. No fear of losing parents, no fear of losing children. All Qunari are part of one glorious whole."

"Good for the Qunari," Isabela spat, "Me…I just wish that father was still here. You would not be talking like this if he was still here."

Her Mother's eyes turned sad.

"Your Father wasted his gifts," she said flatly.

Isabela felt her temper flare.

"Don't talk that way about Father," she hissed.

"It is true Naishe," she said, "Under the Qun his skills would have been used to bring order and certainty to Thedas. He would have been valued, not killed like some dog in the arena. He would have died for a greater purpose. His skills appreciated by all."

_He was appreciated,_ Isabela thought, _by me._

"Father loved us mother," she spat, her heart pounding in her ears, her vision turning red with rage.

_How dare Mother speak so poorly of Papa._

"Love tyrannizes the heart daughter," Mother said, "It blinds you to certainty and order."

"Love is not tyranny!" Isabela spat, "You understood that once. You married father! He loved you! He loved me!"

The older woman shook her head.

"We were so naïve. We did not understand."

"What did you not understand?" Isabela spat.

Isabela rolled her eyes.

_Maker give me strength!_

"**That **the Qun is the one and only truth," her Mother said, she touched Isabela's cheek again, but this time the girl felt no warmth no sense of maternal love.

She felt betrayal, she felt poison.

She might has well of been touched by one of those Tamassran whores on the docks.

"Come with me daughter," her mother said, "The Tamassran will show you your true purpose."

Isabela swatted her hand away.

The move shocked the older woman. Naishe had always been the most dutiful of children.

She was seeing Isabela for the first time….

And Isabela was very angry.

She glared at her mother.

"I will never join those blighted ox-men," she growled.

Anger flashed in her mother's eyes, for a moment Isabela thought that the older woman might strike her.

She had never struck her daughter before Father had died.

Isabela did not flinch, if hurting her helped her mother find her way back to herself, then Isabela could take it.

She was no stranger to pain.

Mother lowered her hand, she sighed.

She gave her daughter that cold imperious stare.

"You cannot fight this daughter, no matter how hard you struggle," she said, "Struggle is an illusion…victory is in the Qun."

Isabela snorted like an angry mare.

She realized that she was wasting her time.

She made for the door, scooping up her father's daggers as she went.

"Where are you going?" Mother asked.

"To find my own purpose," the girl responded hotly, "I don't need some cow-bitch telling me what it is."

"Naishe," Mother called out, "Naishe come back, come with me!"

Isabela did not even respond…

Naishe…

That was not her name anymore.

IOI

She spent the evening at the arena.

She embraced the hum of the place, the violence, the blood, the passion.

This was living…this was what it felt like to be alive!

She had three fights that night. Two individual battles and one melee, the melee was her favorite of the night.

A dwarf, two human, and an elven blade master, all were looking to take her down.

Isabela met their skill…and prevailed.

She showed them just how good her father had taught her.

She won that fight. It had come down to her and one of human's, a young man from Orlais.

He had been good, but she had been better.

That night, she had bought him a drink to help dull the pain.

He had been intrigued by her. She laughed at his jokes and enjoyed his company.

Anything was better than going home, facing her mother and her ranting about the Qun.

After a few drinks, Isabela started feeling better, more relaxed.

The Orlesian was kind of cute.

She kissed him.

He grinned and returned it with equal abandon.

The two of them went to a small inn next to the arena.

Isabela lost her virginity that night. In the morning she woke up alone, she went back to the arena to see if the Orlesian had gone back there, but no one had seen him.

Her coin purse was missing as well, not to mention Father's daggers.

Isabela cursed angrily. The coin she could replace…but her Father's daggers! Papa's daggers!

Her world turned red.

_Thieving little bastard, I'll hunt him down and cut his balls off!_

She returned home, she would need a few things, more coin and some food while she went on the hunt.

She would catch up with him, she would get her weapons back and she would cut her name into his sodding hide.

Isabela never was able to conduct that hunt.

Toady was the last time she saw her home.

A new life was about to begin for her.

IOI

She entered their home and was surprised to see that they had company. Mother sat near the fire in father's old chair.

Next to her sat an Antivan. He was dressed in the finery so well-known back in Antiva. She was shocked to realize that she recognized him. She had seen him at the fights. She knew that he had ties to the Felicisma armada, just like the man she had killed last year.

She had avoided him for that reason. She had always tried to stay away from anyone associated with the armada.

It was safer that way.

Still the man had always been watching her; several times he had sent a request to drink with her to the fight master. She had declined each time. His invitations did not flatter her, the man was greasy and a pig that had at least two girls on his arm each night.

Her lip curled in distaste.

She had no desire to be arm candy.

"Naishe," Mother said rising, "Allow me to introduce you to Luis."

"Greetings my dear," the Antivan said rising from the chair. The way his eyes crawled over her body made her feel dirty. If she had had father's daggers…

"Pleased to meet you," she said looking around the room, "But if you excuse me…"

She tried to brush past Luis, but he grabbed her arm.

She glared at his hand.

"Do not be so hasty," he replied, "It is time we got to know each other I think."

"Remove your hand," the girl whispered dangerously.

"Naishe," Mother's voice was as hard as a steel blade. The sound shocked her daughter.

"That is no way to talk to your betrothed."

Isabela's eyes widened.

Did…did she say betrothed?

The Antivan, Luis, smiled at her.

Mother gave her daughter a cold look.

"The dowry had been paid," Luis informed her, "I requested a permit from the magistrate yesterday. It was why I missed your fights last night my dear Isabela. I hope you can forgive me."

Isabela's eyes widened in shock, she felt…she felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach.

She looked at her mother in horror.

"I am going to Par Vollen my dear," Mother said, "To serve the Qun, but I could not leave you here alone. I would rather you have accompanied me, but…"

Mother shook her head.

"You wanted your own life, a life of fine things. Luis can give you that life."

"Mother," Isabela gasped, she…she could not believe this.

What in Andraste's name was her mother doing?

"I had you followed here last week," Luis informed her, "My apologies my dear, but I needed to know where you lived so I could approach your mother about my desire to wed you."

Isabela glared at the man, he did not want a bride. He wanted a legally owned whore. She had seen enough such women on the arms of wealthy merchants at the fights.

When the husbands grew bored with them, they vanished.

Isabela looked at her mother. The shock was so great that she did not even think to try and escape. If she killed this Luis the armada would hunt her down and kill her. They would kill mother too, just to spite her daughter.

This wasn't a marriage that her mother had sold her into, it was slavery…

It was a death sentence.

"Mother," she whimpered, trying to reach the woman who had given birth to her. Who had loved her father.

The woman that stared back at Isabela was none of those things.

"You must follow the path you have chosen my Naishe," the woman said, "just as I must follow as the Qun demands."

"Come along my dear," Luis purred, taking her by the arm, "The magistrate has found us a priest willing to marry us, is that not nice?"

She let him lead her away; the shock gave way to a cold dark fury.

She looked at her mother with tears in her eyes.

"I hope you're happy in Par Vollen," she spat.

"May you find the path to certainty my daughter," Mother said with a crisp Qunari bow.

Isabela's eyes narrowed in hate.

"You have no daughter," she hissed, "And I have no mother."

She let Luis lead her outside.

He closed the door behind them.

Mother faded from Isabela's sight for the last time.

They walked arm in arm, the girl seething with rage.

No coin, no weapons, and now…Mother had done this to her.

She would never forgive, and she would never forget!

"I think I shall continue to call you Isabela my wife," Luis said conversationally, "I find it more appealing than…than what did that Qunari woman call you?"

Isabela tightened her grip on Luis's arm, if this was what she needed to survive for now so be it.

"It does not matter anymore," she whispered, "Husband."

Luis grinned.

"Husband? Yes, that is what you shall call me from now on."

Isabela said no more.

There was nothing left to say.


	8. The Abandoned Thaig

**A/N: Warning. Spoilers here for my Grey Trilogy if you have not read it yet. Just wanted to warn you. **

**Chapter 8: The Abandoned Thaig**

"**Down Charity!"**

Carver Hawke ducked. Arika swung her blade where his head had been not a moment before. The Shriek that had been stalking him fell dead.

Carver rolled and came to his feet. All around them the darkspawn swarmed the Thaig's courtyard. The rest of their allies, with the exception of Nathaniel had fallen under the darkspawns' blades.

He looked at Arika; her foxlike features were pinched with determination and barely restrained bloodlust. As a reaver, death was an old friend to Arika. Her hair and tattooed face was speckled with darkspawn blood.

Beautiful and terrible, those were the two words he could think of to describe her.

The three remaining wardens stood back to back. The strange shimmering light from the lyrium running through the Thaig's walls colored the chamber in the color of fresh blood.

Carver grimaced, the last time he had been here; he had been a naïve boy angry at the world. A boy who did not understand the true dangers of the taint and the darkspawn who spread it, he had matured since then.

Six years as a grey warden would do that to you.

"If we die here Carver," the blond reaver at his side growled, "Know that I will never forgive you for talking me into this."

Despite the danger of the situation, the warden chuckled.

"I don't recall threatening you,' he reminded her, "In fact, I offered to go alone. You said, and I quote: 'Of course I'm coming, without me you will likely be killed.' Remember that?"

Arika snorted.

"I hate when you use my own arguments against me," she sniffed, "It makes me look like I'm not always right."

Carver laughed.

"You are always right love," he replied, "If our marriage has taught me anything, it is the value of the term: yes dear."

Arika Hawke, daughter of Arik and Elosia smiled.

Even in the darkest of places, her beloved could still make her smile.

IOI

The two had met six years ago, in the deep roads not far from where they were now.

Carver, infected by the taint had been brought to the Grey Wardens to save his life. Stroud, the leader of their scouting group had taken him in. Arika had been given the job of training the young recruit. She had not been pleased with that assignment at the time. She resented it, the broad shouldered, black haired farm boy would never be the warden he needed to be, he could not understand the sacrifices that would be demanded of him.

Carver was a charity case, someone taken into the warden out of mercy not merit, and those tended not to survive long in the order.

Carver had proven that opinion to be false over the years.

The reaver smiled to herself.

Things had changed.

On the surface, they seemed to have nothing in common. She had been born in the snow-swept mountains of Nevarra. He had lived as a farm boy in southern Ferelden, the son of an apostate mage and a disgraced noble woman.

The Ferelden warrior had managed to work his way past her defenses. Then…without even realizing it, had initiated a mating ritual with her, defeating her utterly, and demanding her surrender.

And she had done just that, by rule of the clan, she was his now, her blade, her body, her heart, it belonged to him. He had not taken her immediately, not understanding what it was he had won, at the time that had vexed her greatly, but it had worked out in the end.

Their time together, the battle and peacetime experience made her grow beyond just the demands of her clan. He had won her in combat, but in time…he had won her heart as well.

She had fallen deeply in love with him.

They had faced many dangers together, but it looked like their lives might end where his life in the wardens began.

They had come full circle.

Arika's eyes narrowed.

If they were to die, she would damn well not go alone. She intended to take as many of the darkspawn bastards with her as she could.

They would do her best to make the spawns' victory as pyric as possible.

The spawn would know no celebration tonight. They would know only blood…and death.

That was the way it should be.

IOI

Carver swung his sword in challenge. The darkspawn spat and hissed.

He awaited their attack; the three of them would…

An ogre began to advance towards them, the great horned darkspawn roared in triumph, it lowered its head and…

The creature imploded. Blood splattered its fellows as the crushed corpse fell.

Carver's eyes widened, how had…?

Flame and ice rained down on the darkspawn. The creatures squealed in panic.

Carver reached out with his Templar senses, he had always been able to sense magic, even though he had never been able to use it himself. That sense had been a gift from his father; he had studied the Templar disciplines later, which made those abilities stronger.

The warden's eyes widened in shock, he recognized the magic that had just saved them.

What in Andraste's name was he doing here?

The air rippled as another fireball exploded among the darkspawn. From the stairwell behind them emerged five familiar figures, being led by someone that Carver knew very well.

He smiled grimly.

"Hello brother," he whispered, "so glad you could make it."

Garrett Hawke did not hear him, and would not likely have acknowledged even if he had.

There were darkspawn to kill.

That was all that mattered right now.

IOI

"Avoid their blood," Garrett warned, "Anders' silverite draughts protect us from the taint, but they don't make us immune to it. Don't let them touch you."

Isabela smirked at him.

"Words to live by sweet thing," the pirate queen purred. She leapt into the fray, kicking the head off a darkspawn who had been frozen solid. Spinning she swept the leg out from under another and drove her dagger into its eye.

Hawke snorted in anger.

He and Aveline were going to have a very long talk when they got back to Kirkwall. Hawke had not wanted Isabela here, but at the same time, he could not deny her usefulness. They may no longer be as close as they once were, but at least they still knew where they both stood.

Unlike another of Hawke's companions

"Just like old time eh," Anders said conversationally, "You, me Varric, and this horrid place. I feel so…nostalgic right now."

Garrett did not respond. He and Anders had not gotten along well in the last few years. The blond haired former warden turned apostate with the blue coat with feathered pauldrons remained one of his greatest critics among his circle of friends. Anders felt that Hawke was shying away from his duty as a mage, that he should use his position as Champion to unify the mages of Kirkwall, to prepare them for the revolution that Anders was certain was coming.

Hawke was not so sure. He might have been champion, but if Elthina and the chantry felt that he had become their enemy, nothing would save him or his family from their wrath.

Anders did not accept that, he felt that Hawke needed to embrace the idea of self-sacrifice, his family would be a small price to pay for the freedom of thousands of innocent mages.

Hawke had disagreed, he did not think that those words were entirely Anders', the spirit of Justice that had bonded with his friend was having more and more influence over the former warden as the years went by.

Hawke had tried to tell Anders that, but his friend and fellow mage refused to listen.

He had done everything he could to help Anders deal with Justice, to keep the spirit from raging out of control, but no avail. Then…lately thing had seemed to be getting better. Anders had turned more bitter sure, but he actually sought out Hawke to help him.

Perhaps the former warden realized that everything that Garrett did was trying to make things better for the mages in Kirkwall. Hawke still hoped that Elthina could be convinced to aid the mages, to finally put a collar on Meredith, and prevent a true and bloody war from starting.

Hawke did not court war, he still had faith that the chantry could be made to see reason.

Anders thought him an idealistic fool.

Varric stayed close to Hawke, Bianca spitting her lethal bolts at the darkspawn. Fenris's markings pulsed as he collided with the darkspawn, his great sword pushing the beasts back with lethal effect.

He spotted Nathaniel; the dark haired warden looked enough like his sister to be her twin, at her side was…

Garrett smiled.

He should have known.

IOI

"Hello sweet thing," Isabela cooed.

"What are you doing here?" Carver asked.

"Is that anyway to greet an old friend," she pouted, "I'm hurt, but let us not get distracted shall we."

"Greetings Isabela," Arika said chopping down one of the spawn.

"Hello sweetie," the pirate queen grinned, "Glad to see you two still together. Commitment isn't for me mind you, but someone needs to walk that road."

The reaver grinned.

"My beloved would be lost without me," she said.

"Not surprising," Isabela smirked.

Carver glared at the pirate.

She smiled sweetly and ignored it.

"You and Garrett are back together then?" Carver asked.

"No," she said flatly, "I'm just helping out. Hawke has moved on, it is for the best I think."

Carver gave her a knowing look. Isabela hated that look; it was almost as if he was calling her a liar.

Which she was in this case.

The last time she had seen him was right before she left for Ferelden with King Alistair, after that business with the Avatar.

Isabela gave the warden a look.

"Did you tell Hawke about the dread wolf's daughter?"

Carver glared at her.

The pirate queen ducked as a genlock swung his blade at her.

Nathaniel ended its life with an arrow.

"I take that as a 'no' Carver," she said.

The warden sighed.

"My brother already mourned our sister once Isabela," he said, "She is dead, let the dead rest."

Isabela sniffed.

She had been born an only child, but she knew how much Hawke had blamed himself for the death of their younger sister.

He had spoken of Bethany's death many times. Isabela had done what she could to help him, but the pain never went away.

It should have been the end, but like everything in Hawke's life, nothing was ever simple.

_What had started by an elvhen plot to destroy the world of men had ended in a strange sort of miracle._

Through bravery of Carver and the will of the darkest of the elvhen gods…the impossible had happened.

Bethany Hawke had been reborn, reborn and surrendered to the powers of her immortal father.

She had become a demi-god of tremendous power, the Avatar of Fen'Harel.

As the Avatar of Fen'Harel she had purged the city of Ansburg of the madness of the evil Warden Commander Cesare.

Then she had perished, again, slain by Cesare's final treachery.

The pirate queen grimaced.

It had not been fair, to the Hawke brothers or their sister, but life she knew was never fair.

If it was, her Father never would have died, and she never would have been sold to Luis.

But the greatest tragedy involved Hawke himself.

He had never found out what happened.

Hawke had never known, never known that his sister **had** lived again, that she had had a second chance, and died saving the Free Marches from Cesare's mad ambitions.

Isabela back-flipped out of the way of hurlock warrior, a throwing dagger left her hand, finding the throat of the creature.

It fell dead and unmourned.

Like Bethany had, unmourned by her elder brother.

Isabela frowned.

_Perhaps Carver was right,_ the pirate queen thought.

Hawke had mourned his sister's passing once. Why torture him with that pain a second time.

_Let the dead rest._

_Like Miss Leandra._

_Like my Papa. _

Isabela fought back.

A single tear ran down her face.

_Let the dead rest._

_Let the living suffer._

IOI

The battle ended.

Nathaniel was shocked to see the Champion of Kirkwall here. Had the wardens realized that he would have been willing to return to this place they would have asked? Instead they had relied on the words of Bartrand Tethras, Varric's fallen brother. Nathaniel had interrogated the mad dwarf from his cell in the sanitarium.

It had convinced him that the wardens were right.

This place had to be destroyed, before it birthed anymore horrors.

He had brought Carver along as guide, and enough explosives to bring this place crashing down. They had come prepared for those profane creatures, what the dwarves called rock wraiths, the spawn had been a surprise.

Hawke agreed to escort them back to the surface. Nathaniel and their surviving dwarven engineers set the Glavonak powder charges.

The explosion shook the thaig; the high ceiling collapsed burying any surviving rock wraith or darkspawn, ending the threat of it forever.

Never again would its presence threaten Thedas.

Now…all they had to do was track down any tainted artifacts, in particular the idol that Bartrand Tethras had stolen.

Nathaniel asked Hawke and his companions about it, they had been the ones that had captured Bartrand after all. Varric Tethras had been trying to track down the mysterious woman who had purchased it.

The warden had nodded; perhaps they would have more luck with the orders contacts.

Before the idol resurfaced on its own…before it corrupted its owner.

…Before it unleashed more nightmares on Thedas.

IOI

Carver and Arika were tight lipped as they left the deep roads.

They did not even acknowledge their marriage to Garrett.

They did not want to mention the ogre in the room.

Isabela was back in Garrett's life.

_What if she told him about Ansburg?_

_What if she told him about Bethany?_

Not that it mattered, as far as the pirate knew…the Avatar of Fen'Harel was dead.

As far as everyone, the chantry included, the Avatar was dead.

_That was the best…for Bethany._

Only Stroud knew the truth.

_Bethany __**had**__ survived, she __**had **__escaped. She deserved to have her life, a life free of being hunted._

Carver and the wardens had granted her that.

If Garrett knew, he might try to find her, and in his search he would draw the Templars down on her.

Carver would not allow that.

For the love of his sister, he had to stay silent.

It…was for the best.


	9. The Wolf's Victory

**Chapter 9: The Wolf's Victory**

Hawke stewed in his estate, drinking and trying to make sense of the confusing turn his life had taken lately. The Champion's heart and mind was at war, and he did not know how to fix it.

The return to Kirkwall had done little to calm Hawke's troubled mind. Nathaniel Howe had been saved, his sister was happy, and Carver and Arika were on their way back to Ansburg. Everything had worked out for the best, but…but…

He could not calm the raging storm in his heart.

Two weeks had passed, he had taken other jobs. He killed a High Dragon in the bone pit, than he helped Aveline deal with her old boss. Jeven, the former guard captain had returned, he was now leading an anti Ferelden militia. Aveline defeated him, but it was just one more thing to destabilize the city. Shortly after that was when Sebastian had come to him; he needed help dealing with an emissary of the Divine for the Grand Cleric, a group of mages hunting this representative from the chantry, a representative that turned out to be the famous Leliana, one of the heroines of the Blight.

Normally such a meeting would have intrigued him to no end, the bard's beauty was legendary, but this one was far from pleasant.

Leliana brought with her dire news.

She warned him of a possible exalted march on Kirkwall. Apparently the Divine had grown weary of the troubles here. If the city could not be stabilized, it would have to be destroyed…Templar, mage, everyone. The Divine could not risk the violence in Kirkwall infecting the circles.

Both Hawke and Sebastian had tried to convince the former bard that such extreme action was not necessary. That she should go back to the Divine and tell her so.

Leliana had promised to try, but warned the Champion that her perfection's patience was growing thin.

Hawke felt like a fool. The whole world was falling into the void, the city he had given his life for was falling apart, and threatened with destruction, and all he could think of was a certain pirate queen. Her golden eyes haunted his dreams, the smell of her skin and hair taunted his senses.

_Isabela._

Hawke shook his head.

He…he had thought he had put her behind him, that he had embraced change. That he had moved on passed his feelings for her.

The Champion growled in frustration.

_He had been wrong._

He cursed under his breath, the tumbler of wine in his hand nearly ended up smeared on the wall.

Isabela…he…he could still see her in his mind. She spun with the fluid grace of water, beautiful and as terrifying as the sea on which she had travelled for so long.

Seeing her in the deep roads, fighting at her side again, it had brought it all back, the pain of losing her, of searching all of Lowtown after she had left, fearing that Qunari agents had gotten to her.

Then learning from Varric that she had left of her own accord, that she needed time away from Kirkwall, away from him, he remembered reading her final letter. He needed to be the Champion, and he could not do that with her there. A champion had no use for her; she would only drag him down with her…

_He no longer needed her._

Until that moment, it had been easy, easy to convince himself that what they had was purely physical. What he was feeling…it was lust…pure and simple?

_Love…it was never an option, not for an apostate and a pirate._

Yet, there it had been.

Garrett loved her.

He had loved her for years, but he had not wanted to risk losing her by telling her that. It was better to have her in his life and in his bed.

He had taken up blood magic to see her safe; he had used it for the first time to protect her. She had been dying her life energy drained away by a mad apostate, he knew that convention healing would not save her... He…Merrill had shown him a spell that would do it, it went against everything that his Father had ever taught him, but he did it.

Then later, he had been mortally wounded during that business with the darkspawn Corypheus. He had needed to use it again, to save his own life. Carver had been furious with him; his little brother knew what happened to blood mages in Thedas. No trials were held, no mercy was shown, and they died badly.

Hawke knew that as well, but it had not mattered. He accepted what he was, he had done it for her, it had all been for her…

_Then… she was gone._

There was a small knock on the door of his study. He almost growled for whoever it was to go away, he wanted to be alone.

"Yes," he said coldly.

"Cousin," Charade replied shyly, "Your friend Fenris is here, he said he needs your help."

Hawke cursed under his breath.

_Of course Fenris needed him. _

When would he have time for himself, time to figure out what was wrong in his own life?

He hated it, but what could he do?

The Champion sighed in surrender.

_Fenris was his friend, he needed help._

Hawke would go, maybe then it would be enough.

Maybe whatever Fenris had for him would be enough.

Maybe then she would not haunt his thoughts…

Maybe that…would be enough.

IOI

Isabela stood outside the Blooming Rose, a full coin purse in her hand.

The pirate queen frowned; the ruby lanterns beckoned her forward, promising a night of fun and physical pleasure…

It would be nice.

It would feel bloody good, but…

Isabela frowned.

But…

…She could not do it.

_What in the name of the void is wrong with me?_

She had no idea.

She had thought that a night would do it. It was a chance to end the dry spell that it would allow her to move past Hawke, past her promise.

_Yet…she could not even bring herself to walk through the sodding door!_

Cursing a blue streak the pirate turned towards the stairs leading back to Lowtown.

She…she did not know what to do? In the past she had found release through drink, violence, or sex.

Well…

She was tired of violence and since sex was apparently not an option right now…

Well…she would just have to settle for Corff's cheap knock-off Orlesian wine.

She intended to get drunk, totally and utterly shit-faced, falling down drunk.

Maybe then she could forget Leandra Hawke's face, maybe then…she could forget her sodding promise.

_I would never hurt your son Milady…never, _powerful words, words that she had spoken in a moment of weakness, words that had damned her.

Isabela sighed.

_Why did she have to live with that sodding promise?_

_Why could she __**not **__forget?_

She walked up to the Hanged Man, not really seeing her surroundings. She did not notice that Corff was standing across the street, or the sounds of battle emerging from the Hanged Man…

Not until it was too late.

The door exploded off its hinges, it flew through the air like an arrow.

Isabela's eyes widened in shock, the pirate queen had only moments to roll under the rather unconventional projectile, splinters of wood cut her face, the pain drawing her back into the now.

_The Hanged Man_ had become a battle ground. A dead soldier lay in the doorway. She looked down upon him.

The man's armor marked him as a Tevinter, a soldier of the empire.

Another annoyance, she thought, damn it…I did not want to fight today!

_There are times when we do not want to fight Naishe, but then there are the times we have no choice_.

Her father's words stung deep into her soul.

_Damn whoever was causing all this trouble,_ she thought, _and damn me for being too stupid not to leave it all alone!_

She drew _heartbreaker _and _backstabber,_ her eyes narrowing in anger.

All she had wanted was to get sodding drunk, to just forget about Hawke and promises.

_Was that really so much to ask for?_

She did not think so, apparently somewhat else did not agree.

Isabela marched into the Hanged Man, blood on her face and in her eyes.

_Someone was going to bleed for this, and bleed badly._

They were all going to pay.

IOI

Fenris roared in fury. The markings on his body blazed with light.

Danarius's cruel laughter filled the Hanged Man, but it was nothing compared to the sound of his treacherous sister's voice.

"I'm sorry Leto."

Fenris wanted to crush her heart, to let her live just long enough to realize the full of size of her mistake.

He lunged at his former master's bodyguards. Aveline and Varric stood back to back fighting off the reinforcements trying to arrive from upstairs. Hawke met Danarius spell for spell, neither mage had the advantage over the other.

Bodyguards fell; death came to the Hanged Man.

The Magister laughed and cut his hand.

Blood magic rose, summoning shades, raising the dead bodies of the fallen guard.

The battle continued.

Fenris pushed forward trying to reach Danarius, his treacherous sister Varania cowering behind his former master.

"I'll kill you," the Tevinter elf thought.

I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!

One of the undead bodyguards ran Hawke through, he blasted the corpse away, but he was badly wounded.

Fenris knew what would come next; he had seen Hawke use it before.

The Champion of Kirkwall slit his shoulder; blood flowed, filling with magic expanding outward. Several shades and still living guards were caught in the effect.

They died, their life energy drained like a sponge by Hawke. The spell saved the apostate's life, but…

Fenris growled.

Hawke, Danarius were either of them so very different. Hawke had helped him in the past, but the so called Champion still resulted to the powers of his blood when pushed.

Perhaps he was no longer worthy of Fenris's loyalty?

Perhaps, the elf's time in Kirkwall was ending.

"On your left Fenris!"

The elf whirled blocking a hissing shade. Isabela was at his side, preventing a rogue in Danarius's employ from stabbing him in the back.

The pirate queen gave Fenris a lecherous wink.

"You throw a party and not invite me," she purred, "I'm insulted."

"THIS ISN'T A PARTY!" the Tevinter elf hissed, "It is a funeral, for my former master and his treacherous servant!"

"Still looks fun to me," Isabela quipped.

He managed to do it, with the pirate queen's help he managed to reach Danarius.

Fenris savored the arrogant Magister's surprised gasp, he enjoyed the sensation of his fingers wrapping around the man's throat, power born of almost ten years of fury gave him the strength to lift Danarius into the air one handed.

Still defiant, his former master refused to beg for his life, he still could not see that he was not in power here.

Danarius always had been an arrogant fool!

Fenris's eyes blazed with hate, his markings responded to his fury. He drove his fist into Danarius's chest. The Magister howled in pain.

It should have been gratifying, to finally have Danarius here, to finally end it.

Fenris felt cold.

"YOU…ARE NO LONGER MY MASTER!"

He closed his hand, Danarius's heart popped like a soap bubble.

He watched the light leave his former Master's eyes.

Danarius was dead.

His master was dead!

Fenris flung his body away like so much garbage, no longer even worth his time.

He turned to Varania, his dear sister, the one he had searched three years to find…

…The one who had betrayed him.

She backed up against the wall in fear, he could feel it radiating off her like heat from the sun.

It pleased him.

"I did what I had to Leto," she murmured.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" he growled.

"Fenris stop," Hawke ordered.

"You have no right to deny me this Hawke," Fenris growled, his eyes never leaving Varania.

"Don't do it," Varric said, "Elf…Fenris listen…she…she is your sister."

Fenris shook with naked rage, she…she had brought Danarius here!

"Why," he hissed at her, "why did you do it?!"

Varania lowered her head.

"He promised…he promised to take me as his apprentice," she murmured, "To make me a Magister, my magic has never been great, but…"

"You're a mage?" Hawke said, the surprise not hidden in his voice.

Varania raised her hand, arcane energy crackled there.

It only further infuriated Fenris.

Betrayer!

Witch!

MAGE!

He felt a hand on his shoulder, he growled; ready to crush the heart of any who would dare touch him now!

Isabela did not release him; the look in her eyes was something he had not seen before, no lecherous glances, no arrogance.

She…she seemed sad.

"It hurts when your blood betrays you," she said seriously, "I know that better than anyone, but if you do this…it will haunt you for the rest of your days. Trust me…you…you don't want that."

He glared at Varania, at his sister, the mage, the betrayer.

He howled and shoved his fist forward.

It struck the wall next to Varania's shoulder, she winced and whimpered.

Fenris glared at her, his anger simmering, but under control.

"Get out!" he hissed.

His sister nodded, her ears lowering in shame.

Fenris gasped, his heart pounded in his chest.

He let he pass.

Varania paused.

"Danarius told me that you think he forced your…condition on you," she said.

Fenris glared hatefully at her, did she think…

"It is not true Leto," she whispered, "You…you chose to become what you have become. You wanted this. You fought for it, competed for it," she turned to him, finding the last of her strength.

"You…you did it to set us free, Mother and I, but seeing you here, seeing you now. I…I think you got the better end of the bargain. You do not know what it is like to be a free elf in Tevinter. I don't expect your forgiveness, only your understanding of why."

He stood there in shock.

_What…what she was saying…_

_It could not be possible._

Varania said no more, she collected her staff from where she had hidden it behind the door.

"Goodbye…Leto," she whispered.

Fenris said nothing, if what…if what she said was true…

There was nothing else to say.

IOI

The fight had ended as suddenly as it began. Aveline sent Varric to fetch her guards. She stayed to watch over the bodies. She had promised Fenris that Danarius would get a nice quiet pauper's funeral, unmourned by no one, his ashes scattered over Lowtown.

That seemed to please the elf, but he did not stay to witness it. Danarius was gone, that was all that mattered.

He was now free.

He left for his mansion in Hightown.

Varania's final words still haunted him.

_You wanted this, competed for it._

Fenris felt drained.

He had much to consider.

IOI

Isabela sighed. She cleaned off her daggers and watched the exchange between the two elves with broken eyes.

_Family betrays family._

She found her thoughts drifting to her Mother. How many times has she dreamed of tracking the old shrew down in Par Vollen, putting a blade to her throat, let her see what selling her daughter to Luis had done to her.

_Do you see Mother? Do you see what giving me to Luis did? Do you like your Naishe like this? Do you like the Isabela that she has become?_

She found herself wondering if she could it. Could she…could she just end her Mother's life…just like that? She hated the old shrew, but…but could she slay her own mother?

She did not know.

The pirate queen shook her head, the past did not bother her…usually, but this business hit a little closer to home than she liked.

She went over to the bar and helped herself to some Antivan Brandy. Corff would be pissed, but she would give him some silver later.

Hawke walked up to her, the look on his face was thoughtful.

She could not meet his gaze.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"These Tevinters were in my way," she grumbled, "Interrupted my drinking schedule."

Hawke chuckled.

"Not that," he said, "Speaking with Fenris…thank you…Isabela."

The pirate queen sniffed.

"Don't go soft on me Hawke," she said curtly.

The comment made him smile.

"Have I ever gone soft on you?"

That made her look up, Hawke had been so cold to her since her return, but the look in his eyes, it was…warmer, not passionate, but…something else.

_Forgiving?_

Isabela laughed.

"Can't say that you ever did," she purred seductively.

A little color filled Hawke's cheeks.

How easy they fell back into their old patterns.

Isabela sighed.

"Care for a drink Hawke?"

"In this place?" he snorted.

"It is an acquired taste," she smirked.

She handed him a glass of brandy, their hands touched lightly, but she felt a spark run up her arm.

He let his fingers rest on hers for a moment or two longer than he should have.

"Yes it is,' he said.

A hint of a smile came to her face.

She did not think that he was talking about the brandy.

The pirate shook her head.

_Damn you Hawke._

IOI

Fenris returned home.

He…he was still trying to come to grips with what had happened.

Danarius was dead! His Master was dead!

He was **free!**

But that freedom brought another question, one he was not sure how to answer.

What happens now?

He did not approve of Hawke's blood magic, but at the same time, Hawke had never used it to harm anyone who was not their enemies. Fenris disagreed with its use, but understood the purpose.

It was frustrating and it made him feel like a hypocrite.

Many a night he had fought at Hawke's side. Many an eve they had sat drinking as friends.

_Friends,_ it was a word he never thought he would associate with a mage, but there it was.

_Hawke __**was **__his friend._

Fenris growled.

_Freedom,_ it was going to be most confusing.

He came up to his door, it was open slightly.

Fenris's eyes narrowed.

He drew his sword.

Had Danarius left people here? Was this to be some kind of revenge if the Magister had failed?

Fenris slid into the house, silent as a shadow. Death was not as quiet as he.

He made his way to the room he used. A lone figure stood waiting near the fire, hooded and cloaked.

"Identify yourself," he growled.

"Hello Fenris."

He lowered his blade.

The figure turned, removing her hood, revealing a beautiful elven woman.

Pale skinned, long raven colored hair, fine delicate tapered ears, eyes the color of molten copper; Fenris felt his heart skip a beat.

"Lindariel?"

The she elf smiled.

Lindariel known to her friends and fellows as Lin, or the Black Arrow, a bandit turned Grey Warden. They had met years ago, a grey warden serving with Hawke's brother Carver. They had fought against Corypheus together, after that…

_They had become __**more.**_

Her ears twitched with concern.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

A hint of a smile came to his lips. For a moment all thought of Danarius and the future faded away.

_There was only here…there was only __**her.**_

"I…I am now," he replied.

She blushed slightly.

He came to her, his fingers lightly brushing her right ear. She whimpered with pleasure.

The sound pleased him.

It had always pleased him.

"Fenris," she gasped, "I…"

He pulled her into his arms their lips met with fire and passion.

He led her to his bed, their fingers working at each other's armors.

There would be pain; he accepted that, the act of lovemaking would affect his markings, filling his mind with fractured memories.

He accepted that.

There was rarely pleasure without some pain.

That was simply the way it was…

_**That**__…was life._


	10. On the Loose

**Chapter 10: On the Loose**

Two day later, Hawke once again found himself in the Hanged Man. He had to give it to Corff and whoever was backing him, the old place looked little different than it had before their battle with Danarius, a small burn here, or a blade cut in the wall there. Beyond that, the place looked exactly the same.

The regulars had returned to their various spots, even Isabela was back at the bar. Hawke had nodded to her when he had entered, the pirate queen had given him a small smile and a little wave but that was it.

Hawke's brow furrowed. Part of him still wanted to keep his distance from her, but another part…the part of him that still desired her…

That part was extremely unhappy right now. That part of him wanted to seize her in his arms, drag her up to her room, rip off all their clothes and have his way with her.

Most women wouldn't go along with that, but Isabela…well…

She might just expect it.

Not now, his conscience chided, you have work to do, focus on that, speak with Varric and then get bloody on with it.

Hawke sighed heavily, temptation had been resisted…

….At least, for now.

IOI

A few moments later he found himself sitting in Varric's suite, sipping dwarven brew and listening to his old friend's newest tale.

He found himself not believing a word of it. Hawke grinned at the dwarf.

"Werewolves?" he asked.

Varric nodded.

"Your contacts say they have seen werewolves on the wounded coast?"

"I'm not bullshitting you Hawke."

"I'm not saying you are," the champion replied, "I'm simply curious of the how, not if it is true."

Varric's expression turned serious.

"A couple years back," he said, "Werewolves attacked the Grey Warden base in Ansburg. Lot of people died, ironically few of the villagers, just soldiers and a few wardens. I still have a few friends left in the Templars who will still talk to me. According to them, the werewolves were created by a powerful witch that the wardens had captured and held against her will."

Hawke's brow furrowed.

"Wardens don't do that kind of thing Varric," he said, "Carver would have mentioned it to me in his letters if it was going on. I'm sure this is all just hearsay."

"Maybe," the dwarf shrugged, "My contacts say that the witch died at the end of all that trouble, but if werewolves are showing up along the wounded coast…"

"Then perhaps this witch survived somehow," Hawke said finishing his sentence.

"Exactly," Varric replied, "Might be some coin in hunting this witch down. We could contact Junior; see if the wardens would pay a bounty for her."

Hawke considered this. Such a witch would be a danger to Kirkwall, and better he find her than Meredith. He would actually listen to this mysterious mage's reasons for doing what she had done, and if the wardens had been holding her against her will…?

But again that made no sense, why not simply conscript her, the wardens still had the right to do that? Make her a Grey Warden and she would have had to of joined.

Hawke sighed, they could investigate, but first he had a couple little jobs he needed his friend's help with.

Anders had come to him last night, he said that he was finally trying to separate himself from Justice, to set the spirit free, but he needed a few items that he could not get on his own. Hawke was surprised that his friend would come to him with this. He found it hard to believe that Justice would want to be separated from Anders after all these years, but was grateful that Anders trusted him enough to help.

He would help his friend gather the last ingredients for this potion of his, and would be there for Anders if Justice tried to stop him at the last moment.

Separating the two would be a good idea, he thought.

Perhaps the two would finally know some peace.

Of course there was another problem; a messenger had arrived from the Gallows this morning. Knight-Commander Meredith had asked to speak with him. She promised him safe passage in and out of the Gallows in exchange for his services.

The champion had already spoken to Aveline, and she agreed to accompany him. Varric would also like to go he suspected a chance to see a civil conversation between Hawke and the Knight-Commander would be too good to pass up. He thought about getting Fenris to, but Varric had another idea.

"Rivaini is right down stairs," he suggested, "She has stood with us so far, and you two seemed pretty tight when we fought the elf's former master."

Hawke sighed.

"I'm not denying that Isabela would watch our backs," he said.

"But?" Varric said he could see the indecision in Hawke's eyes; it was not a common thing. Usually the champion knew what he wanted when he put his mind to it.

Hawke frowned and began to pace.

"I don't want her involved in this Varric," he murmured.

"Do you doubt her loyalty?"

"No."

"Rivaini isn't afraid of the Templars Hawke, and everyone knows that she used to travel with us."

"I know that."

So what is the problem?"

Hawke glanced over his shoulder, making sure that Isabela was still at her usual spot at the bar. He did not want her hearing the next part.

He leaned in close to his old friend. What he said was for Varric's ears alone.

"I don't want her to get hurt," he whispered.

Varric shrugged.

"That's an occupational hazard for people like us Hawke," the dwarf reminded him.

The champion's frown deepened.

"Do you remember that business with Sebastian a few years back, those nobles that had his family killed?"

"Of course I remember," Varric replied, "I still think choir boy still has nightmares about that day."

"I know I still do," Hawke said, "But not for the reason you might think."

Varric's expression turned thoughtful.

He did remember.

IOI

Varric sighed.

That had been a bad time for Hawke. They had gone down into that ruin beneath Hightown looking for answers to why choirboy's family had been killed. What they found was a desire demon, and a noblewoman apostate. Isabela had tried to end the fight quick, and had ended up nearly dying that day. The blood mage bitch drained away her life force; left her so near death that healing magic could not save her.

He remembered the look on Hawke's face, the look of pure helplessness. Varric and Sebastian had covered him while he tried to save Rivaini's life, but it was clear that he could not do it…not without help.

_It was the kind of help that Hawke would never have used until that day._

Daisy had been there, and she had shown Hawke a way to do it, a way that still haunted the Champion to this day.

That was the first time that Hawke had ever used blood magic, used it to drain away the life of their enemies, and restore Rivaini to full life.

Varric remembered the shame in his friend's eyes, and how he refused to meet either Varric or Sebastian's gaze. Choirboy had not turned Hawke over to the circle that day, but had taken to keeping a respectful distance.

Varric had known the truth, Hawke had not done that lightly, and the mage knew that using blood magic was a slippery slope. Merrill walked it, but even she stumbled some times. By choosing to use blood magic, Hawke had no doubt attracted more than a few hungry demons, but the dwarf also recognized something else about Hawke that day.

His friend had fallen in love with Rivaini. Hawke would have done anything to keep her safe.

This business with the Knight-commander, it likely would involve magic, and considering how hard she had clamped down on the mages in the city, likely any mage they went looking for would have turned to blood magic to keep him or herself safe.

Hawke was worried that history would repeat itself, and he did not wish Rivaini involved in this.

Varric understood that, but he still felt that it did not matter.

Rivaini would never admit it, not sober anyway, but…she also cared for Hawke. It was clear by what he had seen, how she was always at his side, and the many nights he had heard her awaken in her nearby room, crying out for Hawke after a nightmare.

Varric never told her about that, he kept it to himself. He liked Rivaini and she probably would have denied it anyway,

It was a conversation that he was not interested in having with her.

Perhaps it would be best if they did keep her out of this?

Not that she would allow it, if Hawke was going into danger, she would want to be there; want to be there at his side.

Maker help anyone who tried to stand in her way.

Varric recognized that.

There was nothing that they could do, for good or ill…

Isabela would be coming along.

IOI

Isabela sauntered along beside Varric; Hawke as always had the lead, with the big girl bringing up the rear.

The pirate queen chuckled. She never thought that the Templar bitch would ever invite Hawke into the Gallows, not without forcing him to stay anyway.

The conversation between the two had been civil, for the most part, three mages had slipped their chains, and the Knight-Commander had wanted them brought back. She had left the details with her tranquil assistant, who had spoken to Hawke and great length about the escapees. Some Darktown girl, an elf from the Alienage, and some noble git's son, they did not sound that threatening, but considering the fact that they might be blood mages made things a bit more interesting.

Isabela had been concerned for Hawke; he clearly did not like talking with that pet tranquil of the Templar's. She suspected that the Knight-Commander had had the girl there on purpose, to remind Hawke what would happen if he stepped out of line with her.

Isabela frowned.

If the Templar bitch made a move against Hawke, she would make the woman very, very sorry. Isabela already had one death mark on her head, adding one for killing a knight-commander of the chantry did not bother her that much.

Hawke had taken the job, or test as he suggested that it might be. If these three were as dangerous as the Templars thought, they still needed to be gotten off the street.

Hawke had decided that he had wanted Fenris in this as well. He was concerned for their elven companion's welfare. No one had seen him since they had dealt with his former master; he had not even left that old mansion of his.

Hawke was worried about him, what could he be doing in there for the last two days?

Isabela had suggested that he was likely just getting drunk, but Hawke decided to make the journey to see him anyway, make sure that he was still fine after the confrontation with his sister.

They walked right up to the mansion; Hawke pushed on the door, but found it locked.

The champion's brow furrowed with concern. Isabela found that she was a little surprised. Fenris never locked the main door, people in Hightown knew he was there, and what he would do to any thieves he caught, he locked his main rooms, but never the front door.

Perhaps Hawke was right to be concerned.

He knocked loudly.

Isabela pulled her daggers, if that Magister had left some trap behind for the elf, they would have to be ready.

Hawke knocked loudly again.

"Kaffas, I'm coming damn you!"

Hawke relaxed at the sound of Fenris's voice, Isabela sheathed her blades. The sound of locks turning was followed by Fenris opening the door slightly. He squinted in the bright daylight.

Isabela grinned.

Yum.

Fenris looked…well…a bit bedraggled, his silver hair mussed, his body sheened with sweat, he was also naked from the waist up.

He glared at his comrades. Clearly, he did not want guests right now.

Isabela smirked; enjoying the view the elf definitely had a nice body. Fenris was far more muscled than most elves she had seen.

He wasn't Hawke, but that did not mean that she could not enjoy a little art appreciation.

"Yes," Fenris said gruffly.

"Hello Fenris," Hawke said suspiciously.

"Do you need something?" the elf asked.

"We came for your help," Varric said.

Fenris's ears twitched.

"I'm…currently occupied," he said glancing behind him, "Can this wait."

Isabela was curious now, she had lived in Kirkwall for almost four years, never had she seen Fenris like this."

"We catch you napping?" she asked him.

"No," he snarled, color coming to the tips of his ears, "I'm…occupied, come back later…please."

Isabela's interest was now peaked.

Please?

Fenris never said please.

Hawke recognized that something was up too.

"Are you okay Fenris," he asked.

"I'm fine," he said, "please go away."

"What's up elf," Isabela grinned, "What…you got a girl in there with you or something?"

The elf's emerald eyes narrowed.

"As a matter of fact…" a voice called out from behind him.

Fenris lowered his head, cursing he stepped aside.

Isabela's smile grew wider.

A pale skinned elven girl stood behind Fenris, she was dressed in nothing but one of Fenris's shirts. Her cheeks and ears a little pink.

She smiled shyly at Hawke.

"Greeting Serah Hawke," she said, "It has been awhile."

Hawke was actually blushing now too.

"Um…Hello Lin, it…it has been a long time hasn't it?"

The elven archer nodded.

Varric chuckled.

"You could have just told us elf," he said to Fenris.

The male elf growled, his markings glowing with embarrassment and frustration.

Isabela grinned lecherously.

_Fenris you lucky bastard._

IOI

Fenris was not pleased, he was not ashamed of his feelings for Lin, but why did Hawke have to bring the others along?

He would never live this down, not with Varric and Isabela.

"What do you need," he growled at Hawke.

The champion at least had the decency to appear embarrassed.

"Sorry to interrupt your…nap," Hawke said, "But there are apparently some blood mages that got free from the Gallows. I thought you might want to help us stop them."

Fenris growled; his loyalty to Hawke warred with his desire for Lin.

The archer made things easy for him.

She gently touched his face and kissed his nose.

"You are needed," she purred.

"I know," he growled.

She turned to Hawke.

"Give us some time," she said, "We shall meet you outside the Viscount's Keep."

Hawke arched his eyebrow.

"You want to help?"

She smiled.

"Fenris is needed," she said, "My scouting group is currently on leave, I have a month," she smiled. "This should not take that long."

"A month?" Isabela laughed, "Ooh Fenris, I hope you can keep it up for that long."

He growled at the pirate.

Lin blushed.

"Leave him be Isabela," Hawke said, "We shall meet you outside the keep."

Fenris and Lin both nodded.

He closed the door.

A Tevinter curse spat from his lips.

_Damn Hawke, damn them all!_

Lin laughed lightly.

Fenris gave her a look.

"I think you could do it," she said innocently.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, and the confrontation with his friends, Fenris smiled.

It would be a challenge, he thought.

Perhaps they would try it…

…After helping Hawke of course.

Yes.

After would be better


	11. Eleven Years Ago

**Chapter 11: Eleven Years Ago**

Isabela's heart pounded, her blood raced, daggers in hand, she faced the smelly bastard with a savage smirk upon her lips.

The man was huge, but slower than shit. He put all his strength into that great sword of his.

When he committed himself to an attack, there was no turning back.

That was a mistake for a duelist, facing someone one on one, you had to improvise.

Isabela was good at improvising.

The crowd in the arena roared as she ducked under the huge sword, she rolled on through and slashed at the back of the man's huge legs.

_Heartbreaker _found its mark, but _backstabber _missed, she back pedaled as the huge fighter swung his sword awkwardly trying to catch her with a wild swing.

She grinned as she moved out of range.

She danced around; searching the crowd for Luis or Claudio, neither her husband nor his bastard of a partner was in the crowd tonight. That was kind of a surprise. Normally when the Siren's Call put into Llomerryn for repairs, Luis loved to laud the fact that he was sharing a bed with her.

Three years now, she thought coldly, three years since her mother had sold her to Luis, and his tender mercies. He did not beat her that was about the best she could say for him but at the same time they did not have the marriage that her father did not approve of.

Their marriage was not about love, it was about control, she was as much his property as the Call was. He preferred to keep her as she was, beautiful and sharp as a stiletto. When she was not in the arenas she was expected to smile shyly behind him as he impressed his friends with his blushing Rivaini bride. He rewarded her with the finest wines and silks, but that did little to appease her.

He expected her to obey him in all things. She was his and only his, while he was free to take whatever woman caught his eye in whatever port in which they stopped.

Isabela did not care, she did not love Luis, and part of her welcomed the day he would turn her out in the street when he found a new girl that he wanted for his trophy.

The only thing that she completely agreed with was the potions he had her take. Her value as his trophy wife would drop if she ever got with child, not that she wanted children. She still carried her Mother's blood in her veins. She had no desire to subject some poor child of hers to that.

No, Isabela would die childless and likely young, but that was fine with her.

Death would free her from Luis's grubby paws.

Her opponent charged, limping badly from his injuries.

Isabela spun around him; he might have been striking at thin air for all the good striking at her would do.

_Backstabber_ lived up to her name by plunging deep into his lower back. The warrior staggered and fell over. He was now on his knees gasping for breath.

Isabela smirked at the crowd went wild.

She pulled her opponent up by his hair, and looked out onto the crowd.

"**What is your will?"** she cried excitedly, "**What do you wish to see?!"**

**DEATH! DEATH! DEATH!**

The crowds chant was deafening.

Isabela looked upon the fight master's box, the crowd was rowdy, and they could ask, but he was the one who decided in the end.

The man gave her a stern look.

She waited her blades at the fallen man's throat.

A hint of a smile played over his lips.

He held out his hand…

The thumb went down.

She grinned.

_Heartbreaker _did her work.

The crowd roared flowers and coin rained down on her.

**HAIL ISABELA! HAIL THE SHARPEST BLADE IN LLOMERRYN!**

Isabela laughed, she was only free in two places now the arena and the sea.

Both were the only masters she paid heed to, Luis might have her body, but he did not have her heart or her soul.

The sea had claimed that.

She smiled wistfully.

She remembered their first night on the Call, her wedding night. After Luis had… done his business he had left her, she lay in his bed, curled into a ball. She did not cry. He would not see her cry.

She would not show such weakness in front of her lord husband.

As she lay there, she found herself listening to the waves, feeling the rocking of the Siren's Call beneath her.

She dressed and went up on deck.

In that moment…Isabela had fallen in love.

The night was clear, the stars shone down upon them, the moon huge and fat above her.

The sea breeze tickled her face; the salty smell cleared her mind and her senses. Some of the men glanced up at her, but quickly diverted their eyes.

The captain would have their guts for garters if they gawked at his new wife for too long.

Isabela stood on the bow; she held open her arms, embracing the ocean, letting it take her as only it could.

In that moment she realized that she had found the one place she truly belonged.

Her one true love.

The sea was her master now…Luis…was a means to an end.

As long as he let her sail, she would be his.

Out here, under the stars with the waves lapping against the hull, Isabela was unbound…

…She was free.

IOI

After the fights she found herself in the fight master's box. Luis owned a portion of this place, and it was his duty to treat her as an honored guest.

She smirked as one of the servants brought her a glass wine, and a plate of fine food.

She knew that some of the fighters were jealous, but what did she care.

She was better than them all, and had connections through her lord husband.

They had a problem; they could step into the ring with her.

They might not come out again if they did.

"May I join you?"

She looked up at man who addressed her, even though hooded and cloaked she could see that it was an elf that addressed her.

She smiled like a hungry predator.

"Go away sweet thing," she purred, "My husband would have your ears for a necklace if he saw you talking to me."

The elf chuckled.

"The jealous type is he," the elf said, "Not that I do not see why. Any man would be a fool not to covet such a beauty. You are definitely a woman worth killing over.

Isabela rolled her eyes.

"You definitely have a death wish Master elf," she sneered, "May I have the pleasure of your name.

"My apologies my dear Isabela," he said removing his hood, revealing a handsome tattooed face, long blond hair and tanned skinned.

Isabela appraised him, he was quite handsome in the ways that only a male elf could be.

Under normal circumstances she would be intrigued, but she recognized the markings on his face.

"I am called Zevran, Zev to my friends," the elf said was a theatrical bow.

"I've hear the name before," she said coldly, "Tell me, what do the Antivan Crows want with me."

Zev chuckled.

"The Crows nothing," he purred, "But I make it a point to introduce myself to every beautiful woman who passes through this way. In case they might have need of my services."

"I don't need anyone killed right now," she said taking a swig of ale.

"I have more skills than simply dealing death good woman," he said suggestively, "Perhaps we could explore them together."

She gave him an ironic grin.

"What part of jealous husband, connected with the Armada don't you understand?"

The elf laughed.

"People fall out of favor with the armada all the time," he said dismissively, "An untouchable person today is a target tomorrow."

Isabela drew _heartbreaker _from her sheath. She spun it in her palm.

Zevran regarded the blade hungrily.

"You like her?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Her name is _heartbreaker_," Isabela said, "a wedding gift from Luis to me, along with her sister _backstabber_, the only one that truly mattered."

"A fine set of weapons," the elf said, "Almost as fine as their mistress."

"Thanks," she purred.

She gave him a cruel look.

"You seem too nice for this line of work," she said, "Go back to the shadows little crow before someone tries to make a name for themselves killing you."

"It would not be easy," he shrugged.

"The fighters here know that," she shrugged, "They would take that as a personal challenge.

"Somethings are worth the risk."

Isabela rolled her eyes; she was growing bored with all this polite chit-chat.

"Listen Zevran."

"Zev…please."

"Zevran," she said her eyes narrowing, "The third talon of your order is my husband's business partner. If I whisper in his ear that you have been harassing me…"

"I'm not here to harass you," he said, "I'm trying to interest you my fair Isabela."

He certainly had done that, she thought.

The elf was handsome, before her marriage she might have been tempted to let him have a taste of her, but men were horrible braggarts, it would get back to Claudio who would tell Luis.

She would not risk her life on The Call in that way. If she was cut off from the sea or the arenas…she would likely die.

She pushed back her chair and made for the exit.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked.

"Before either of us does something we would both regret," she purred, "I have no desire to wrestle you down onto the floor in this place."

The assassin sneered.

"I have no desire to fight you my dear," he said.

Isabela grinned lecherously at him.

"Who said we would be fighting. I said wrestling blades and clothing optional."

He laughed.

"You savage little minx," he purred, "If you have need of my… _services_…I shall be in the city for three more days. You can contact me through the fight master here."

"I doubt I will," she shrugged, "As I said I don't want anyone dead right now and I certainly would not want to risk either of ourselves exploring your other…talents."

Zev gave her a slight bow.

"Until we meet again fair lady."

Isabela rolled her eyes.

She was smart enough to know that would be a bad idea.

IOI

Two days later, Isabela found herself moaning and crying out in ecstasy in the captain's cabin of the Siren's Call.

The cries were not unusual, typically the captain returned with a hunger for his wife after a hard day of business, but this was not the sounds the crew was used to hearing.

The captain never made his wife cry out like that!

And he was not even on board.

The crew would say nothing of course, Casavir and Brand, the first officer and quartermaster had both came to respect Isabela. Unlike the captain, his wife was approachable; she ate with the sailors and helped them whenever she could. In the last three years she had learned every inch of the Call, and could do anything from work the sails to steer. Unlike the captain that hid in the cabin during storms and took far more than his fair and lawful share, no Isabela was not simply the captain's wife, she was one of them. She even ensured them a large share of whatever loot they gathered on jobs. They trusted her and respected her, as much as any pirate crew would.

Trust was sometimes better than fear.

No one would turn her over to her husband, and if they did, the officers would slit their throats before word left their mouths.

Isabela had the loyalty of the crew.

It was not likely good news for their captain.

Not good at all.

IOI

Isabela collapsed onto the bed, she lay there soaked in sweat, and murmuring contently at the finish of their lovemaking.

Zev gasped, trying to catch his breath.

_**Maker**__… the woman knew how to please a man._

She gave him a sly smile.

"I thought you did not wish to see me again?" he asked.

"I changed my mind," she purred.

The letter that the fight master had delivered had been an interesting one. It told him how to sneak aboard the Call undetected, and find his way to the captain's cabin. He had done so out of curiosity, and found Isabela waiting for him, naked in bed with a bottle of wine.

She had rewarded him most handsomely for his prowess in the last hour…

…_Most handsomely indeed._

_Three times in fact!_

But now, he suspected that it was time for business.

Isabela had that business look in her eye, the look that he had seen many times before.

It said: I want someone dead.

Zev smirked.

Here we go again.

IOI

"I want to hire you, she said in her most serious of voices.

"I do not usually get paid for _**this **_service Isabela," he chuckled.

She frowned, her face no longer held any emotion.

She no longer looked like the woman he saw in the arena.

She looked like a woman hungry for death.

"I need you to get rid of Luis for me," she said, "Name your price, and it is yours."

The assassin's elven ears twitched with curiosity.

"I thought you did not want anyone dead."

"Things change," she whispered.

"Such as…?'

She glared at him.

"Does it matter?"

"Not to me," he said putting his arms behind his head, "But the crows will want to know why I dealt with a high ranking member of the armada."

She cursed, but knew that he was right, this had to be handled just so. She had gotten lucky with that fat bastard back in Rivain, the guards that she killed that night had gotten the blame for that.

She would not likely be as lucky as second time.

She sighed.

"It is personal," she said.

"It always is when you kill a member of your family."

She almost slapped him for suggesting that.

_Luis was not part of her family. He owned her, nothing more…_

She had decided to **terminate **that relationship.

It had been fine for a while, but yesterday, Luis had made the grandest mistake of his life.

In two weeks they would be leaving Llomerryn. He was going to meet with some fellow captains up near Rivain, and he expected his wife to entertain them, not only as their hostess, but in their beds.

She had said nothing at the time, but inside…she was seething with rage.

Isabela's mouth became a grim line.

_She was many things…not all of them good, but Luis's whore was not one of them._

It was the last straw; she could no longer sit idly by and smile.

_If she wanted to be free, she had to act._

She could not leave him, nor did she want to leave the Call. That left only one possibility.

She knew that she would likely die when he became bored with her, well…she would act first, as soon as she agreed to start sleeping with his friends her value to him would drop, despite her fame in the arena.

It was better to strike cleanly and first.

"I have coin," she said.

"I don't doubt that," he said, "Should we consider what we just did a down payment?"

She smiled wickedly at him.

"Think of it as an incentive, for service rendered."

He quirked his lip in amusement, he did like how this woman thought.

"I will need to get authorization from my cell master."

"Do so," she said, "But do so quickly."

He nodded, running his hand up her dark skinned thigh.

She shivered in pleasure.

_Maker, if Luis touched me like this, she might just do what he wanted._

"So do we have a deal," she groaned.

"You know," he smirked, "I don't really like mixing business with pleasure."

She arched her eyebrow at him.

Zev busted out laughing.

"Oh who am I kidding," he laughed, "You have yourself a deal!"

She grinned, perfect she thought.

The sooner it was done the better.

"It will take me two days to send word to the crows," he said, "Barring any problems; your...difficulty should be gone by next week."

"My instruction of how to enter this cabin should help you do it," she said, "if anything changes, I will send word through the…"

A loud knocking sounded at her door. Brand's warning knock.

Isabela's eyes widened.

_Luis was __**back.**_

"GO!" she gasped.

Zev moved like lightning.

His clothes in hand he dove out the window of the captain's cabin.

Isabela closed the window to cover the splash. She slipped behind a changing screen as her husband entered.

"I'm home darling," he said.

_Her soon to be late husband._

Isabela smirked.

By this time next week, she would be widow.

"Hello my Luis," she purred, "I'm pleased to see you home."

She peeked out from behind the screen to see him smiling.

It would hopefully be the last time she would be on the receiving end of that smile.

It would make the next few days even sweeter. The taste of her upcoming freedom would sweeten their marriage.

_Until death do we part._

Isabela had not realized the sweetness of that phrase_…until now._

The duelist, soon to be the pirate queen of the eastern seas grinned.

She always had looked good in black, not as good as white, but...

Well, we all work with the tools the Maker gives us.

IOI

Zev made his way over the warehouse roofs of the docks, still barely dressed, one boot and his smalls and his undershirt.

The assassin laughed lightly.

_Dear Isabela, such a saucy little vixen, he would enjoy their next meeting, when he collected his pay, and perhaps a little more._

He did not predict any problems getting clearance from the crows; they had been looking to make an example of someone in the armada for a while now.

Captain Luis would serve nicely.

He would be collecting twice, both from the crows and the Captain's lovely widow, both in coin… and in other debaucheries.

Zevran grinned.

He loved it when the world worked in his favor.

The Maker truly moved in mysterious ways.


	12. Wrong and Right

**A/N: Things are going to get a little mature this chapter, but that is to be expected, this is an Isabela story after all. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 12: Wrong and Right**

He was touching her again; it was something that she had enjoyed once, feeling his strong hands, his lean, hard elven body. The man who had set her free, three nights after Luis was gone, they had spent almost ten hours together, lounging, rutting, sleeping, and then rutting again.

It had been worth it, freedom had been worth it, but now…now…

Isabela was something else…

Something…not free…

Not anymore.

"Stop."

It was a word Isabela never thought she would say to Zev. They had known each other for years now, since he had arranged her dear Luis's unfortunate demise. They had lain together many times, and always found the pleasure that they both had sought, but now…now…

_Maker's bloody balls, what is wrong with me?!_

They were in his tiny camp, off the wounded coast, just the two of them. Nuncio and his crow hunters were all dead; she and Hawke had aided her old lover and saved his life. After the fact, she and Zev had slipped back here for a night of fun, just for old times' sake…

_Alas…she…she could not do it._

He was kissing her, they were in his tent and he was just starting to undress her. She would not deny that felt good, that part of her longed for this release, but Hawke's face kept spring up in her mind. He and his Mother, the woman who she had made a promise to, she and Hawke had never been exclusive, nor had they wanted to be, but…all she could see now was his face when she had walked away with Zevran, the look of…she want entirely sure herself.

That look…the look of…disappointment when she had gone off with Zev after their victory over Nuncio.

She did not understand, they had never been exclusive after all, and it was not like he had had at least several women since she had left.

The hurt in Hawke's honey brown eyes haunted her, when she and Zev had begun this…she…she had almost called out Hawke's name in a moment of pleasure.

That little stunt shook the pirate queen to her core. That is when she realized that she had to stop this, that she could not continue with Zev, not now…not tonight…

…maybe not ever again.

She took his hands in hers, stopping him.

"Zev stop," she repeated, "please."

He obeyed, his lips came away from her neck, he sat back, bare chested, his ears twitched with confusion.

"Is something wrong Isabela?" he asked, he had never known her to pull back before, not in the face of a night of pleasure anyway.

The look in her golden eyes, they…they were like nothing he had ever seen before.

She actually looked frightened and maybe a little ashamed.

Isabela tightened her corset, adjusting her silken bodice and sat up with her legs crossed. She clenched and unclenched her fists in frustration.

She gave him the most pitying of looks.

"I'm sorry Zev, but…but I can't, not this."

IOI

The assassin gave her an appraising look. He and Isabela had enjoyed each other many times since Luis's demise. Usually, she was the aggressor in their sexual encounters. He…he was not used to seeing her like this, unsure…looking almost regretful.

"Is it me my dear?" he asked.

"No," she snarled angrily, "I…I bloody don't know what it is. What in Andraste's name is wrong with me!?"

Zev's elven ears twitched. The assassin liked to consider himself a student of human nature, to recognize certain emotional cues. It was necessary for his work to target the weaknesses of his marks, to play on them and set them up for a kill.

He tried to remember everything he had seen about Isabela since he had found his way back into her life again. She…she definitely seemed a changed woman. Gone was the free-willing pirate queen that he had last seen seven years ago. The Isabela he had met in the Pearl with Lyna at his side was no longer here, it seemed. He had heard about the Qunari of course, how they had pursued her, burned her beloved Siren's Call into the sea. Such an experience was likely to change anyone, but he did not think that was it, not entirely.

Isabela remained a flirt, they had traded barbs back and forth before the battle with Nuncio, and she had convinced the champion to let him go, but…

Zev smiled slightly.

_The Champion…ah…that was it, now he knew what was going on!_

The look on Isabela's face when the champion was near, the way she always seemed to be at his side. The anger in her eyes when Nuncio threatened to harm him.

Zev knew people well, and knew Isabela better than most…after what they shared, it was more than a simple one night stand. He had come to consider her a friend of sorts.

As strange as it sounded, there was only one reason that he could think of for Isabela to have stopped him just now. She would deny it of course, but he was no fool.

_Isabela, the sharpest blade in Llomerryn, the pirate queen of the eastern seas…_

…_was in love._

"I thought I was over this," she complained, "I haven't been able to…to…" she cursed under her breath.

"Damn you Hawke!"

Some men might have been insulted, called Isabela a tease, but…Zevran Aranai was not most men.

Seven years ago, he had come to Ferelden to die, to answer for the death of the woman he loved, to answer for what had happened to Rinna.

Then he had met Lyna, the beautiful warden heroine, a girl who had seemed to be everything that he had ever imagined a Dalish elf to be, strong, proud, dangerous, and as lovely as the forest that she called home.

Lyna had not loved him, not as woman loved a man anyway. She had come to see him as a brother of sorts, and despite everything that had happened, despite the fact that she would likely never love him the way he would have desired.

He was okay with that. It was better to have her friendship, affection, and respect.

He almost laughed at that realization, Zevran Aranai, respected friend of the Hero of Ferelden.

It seemed so ridiculous, but that did not make it true.

He had loved Lyna Mahariel, just as Isabela loved this Garrett Hawke.

He hoped that her love for him ended better than his love for Lyna.

Happiness could be an elusive thing for people such as them.

Isabela deserved a little happiness.

IOI

Isabela hated this. She hated everything about it!

_Was this what her life was like now, pining over Hawke like some lovesick old maid?_

Zev leaned back, giving his old friend a gentle smile.

"It seems the years have changed us both Isabela," he replied, "We both find ourselves…regretting that we are not with those that we would prefer to be with no?"

Isabela cocked her head.

A bit of the old Isabela came back out.

"Don't tell me you have become attached to someone Zev," she smirked, "I'm shocked."

The assassin laughed lightly.

"Alas I have," he said, "It is strange my dear Isabela, how travelling with someone can change your life. I…after Ferelden…after the Blight, I have found my life has lost a little bit of the spice it once had, which is strange to be true, but little things remind me of those days now, things that make me regret the fact that they are now over. Things not done, and pleasures not enjoyed, it seems I have become more than a little fond of someone I could not have."

He glanced down at his hands, Isabela noticed the gloves he was wearing, well-cared for, and of Dalish make.

She smiled lightly.

She remembered their last meeting in the Pearl, they had enjoyed a night in her cabin on the Call, but she got the sense that it might have been Zev going through the motions more for her than for his actual enjoyment.

She also remembered that cute little Dalish girl, the warden, the one who had been leading Zev back then. The short dark hair, violet eyes, nice tight little body, Isabela would be lying if she did not see the appeal, but it seemed that Zev had not been able to seal that deal. Even though the Dalish was attached to Alistair, later King Alistair, it was clear that Zev had wanted her, or was at least had been trying to tempt her into tryst.

She guessed that he had not succeeded.

"Your warden is out there somewhere you know," she told him.

"She is still in Amaranthine," he said.

"She and the King called it quits," Isabela informed, "She gave him up so that he could rule his country. Noble and all that, but let's be honest, it is not something that we would do."

Zev shrugged.

"Probably not," he smirked.

"You could go after her?"

"The warden is not easy prey."

"Scared Zev?"

"Intrigued yes," he admitted, "scared…no."

He gave her sly look.

"What shall you do now my dear Isabela?"

She shook her head. It was a good question. What did she do now?

Perhaps it was time to sail into uncharted waters…and see what awaited her there.

Isabela smirked.

"I've…I've been adrift for too long Zev. Running when I should have been attacking, perhaps it is time to get off my ass and set a new course. See what lays on the horizon."

The assassin laughed.

"I love it when you start with the sailor talk," he purred, "How about one more night together, for old time's sake."

"Zev," she said.

"Can't blame a man for trying my dear," he laughed.

Isabela gathered up her blades. She started down the road, back to Kirkwall.

She turned back for a moment.

"It was good to see you again, give your little warden my best."

"What makes you think I will seek her out?"

The pirate queen laughed.

"Because I know you Zev, and you love trouble, and that girl is definitely trouble."

IOI

His ears twitched with amusement. He watched her go, a knowing smile on his face.

She did know him.

She knew him very well.

He leaned back on his bedroll, and thought of Lyna.

His savage little Dalish flower, all alone out there in the world, a commander with no one left to command.

Trouble would no doubt find her again. She might even welcome him back into her life, and then…who knew what would happen.

Zev smiled.

Isabela was right.

_He did love trouble._

IOI

It was late by the time she arrived in Hightown; she stuck to the shadows avoiding the Templar patrols that now prowled the city hunting rogue mages.

She found herself hoping that Hawke had not chosen this night to go on one of his patrols.

These Templars looked to be spoiling for a fight.

She found herself walking up Viscount's Way, the nighttime sounds of Kirkwall filling her ears.

She walked right up to the front door of the Amell estate.

She frowned.

_Go away, go far away from here,_ a little voice in the back of her head warned_, you don't want what waits for you on the other side of this door…_

_**You never wanted it!**_

The Pirate Queen snorted.

Fear had not stopped her in past, if she could leap onto the deck of an Orlesian warship with just her blades and a crew of drunken louts at her back. Then she could certainly face this.

She took a deep breath and mustered her courage.

She knocked on the door, loudly.

_Let the whole house know she was out here._

She waited, hearing the sound of distant footsteps.

The door cracked, the bolt kept it from opening all the way.

Isabela smiled.

"Hello Sweet Thing," she purred.

"Oh…Hello Mistress Isabela," a familiar voice mewed.

The door closed, and she heard the sound of bolt being slid back.

Orana, Hawke's elven maid, bobbed a quick curtsey.

The elven girl smiled at her.

"It has been a longtime Mistress."

Isabela grinned.

"I'm no one's mistress Orana," she said slipping through the door. She glanced around the estate; it had not changed much in the last few years.

"Hawke at home?"

"Master Garrett is upstairs," she twittered, "I shall go and tell him you are here."

She hurried up the stairs.

Isabela stood in the foyer. She looked around at all the stuff that Hawke had collected since she had left. Lot of old junk she thought, she thought she saw the Arishok's horns on the mantelpiece.

Nice place for them, she thought with a sneer.

Two large shapes moved towards her.

She smirked.

"Hello Rabbit," she said.

The older Mabari barked and wagged his stubby tail.

The smaller one cocked his head; his ears went up in curiosity.

She looked at the pup with amusement.

"I'll give you the same warning I gave your sire pup," she told Brazen, "Try sniffing my crotch and I will stab you."

The Mabari whimpered.

She shook her head and patted his head.

He bounced happily.

Isabela rolled her eyes.

_Like Father like son._

"Isabela?"

She looked up the stairs. Hawke stood on the stairs; he was once again dressed in his house clothes.

She tried to ignore the stirrings the sight gave her.

"Done with your friend already?" he asked her.

"We did not have time for a proper goodbye," she shrugged, "I'm afraid we had other things on our minds."

"Really," he said with a raised eyebrow.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

_Maker…why was this so hard, and not in a good way!_

"I told him no," she murmured.

Hawke said nothing; he seemed to be considering what she told him.

"Can I come up?" she asked.

He lightly rapped on the banister, considering her request.

Fear twisted in her gut.

She waited for the 'no' the 'get out of my house you pirate hag.'

Hawke sighed.

His refusal never came.

He motioned for her to follow.

Her whole body was tingling, she had not felt such excitement since the night she had killed the man who murdered her Father.

She had hated that fat bastard, almost as much as she had come to loath Luis.

What she felt now…it was not hate…it was farthest thing from hate.

Her breath came in excited gasps.

_She was here, here with Hawke._

She hurried up the stairs.

She stopped only an arm length away from him.

She swallowed hard.

"Is there something I can do for you Isabela?"

The pirate queen shivered.

Hawke laughed.

"That was not suggestive at all was it?" he asked, "But seriously…what can I…"

She leapt pushing him back, the two of them banged hard against the wall. Her mouth hungrily attacked his.

Her fingers clawed at his chest, a low moan escaped the back of her throat.

_Hawke…damn you Hawke!_

He might have tried to push her back, but his hands found her breasts instead, a low growl escaped his throat.

He spun her around forcing her up against the wall. She hissed and pushed him back. They hit hard against his bedroom door.

Hawke forced her back; he was grinning, but rubbed the back of his head.

"Ow," he growled.

"Shut up Hawke," she snarled.

She leapt into his arms, her long legs wrapping around the apostate's waist, she writhed against him like a snake, thrusting against him.

His hands found the waistband of her shorts; he tore them in his hurry to get them off. She gasped in excitement.

She pulled back with a vicious smile.

"I liked those," she pouted.

"Shut up Isabela."

He pulled her tight against him. He braced her with his left hand while he opened the door with his right.

He carried her into his room,

_Heartbreaker _and _Backstabber_ slipped from her back, her corset followed it. She tugged off Hawke's shirt, her nails digging into his bare back.

The champion gasped in pleasure.

"I missed this," he gasped, pulling off her boots, "I missed you."

Isabela almost felt like she was going to cry. It had been so long…so very long since she had been able to let go!

Hawke threw her down on the bed; she dragged him down with her.

He kissed her savagely nipping and biting at her lip and ears.

It was ecstasy!

"Hawke," she moaned, "Ohhh! Hawke!"

She gave into him, letting go of fear and pride.

_So long…so very long…_

But finally at long last…

_Sweet relief! _

**A/N: A little mature this chapter, sorry about that :) I'm curious, is anyone curious about Lyna? I might do a story about her in Grim Tales if anyone is interested, shoot me a review and tell me what you think.**

**See you all next time.**

**DG**


	13. Another Hawke

**Chapter 13: Another Hawke**

She limped into Kirkwall, barely able to stand; the pain was beyond agony, and for someone of her upbringing that said so much.

She hissed, pushing back the fever, drawing strength from the pain that exploded in her limbs with every step.

The wounds she had suffered, they would have killed anyone else, but she refused to meet death, the dragons still favored her it seemed, and still offered her their strength.

She was not yet ready to let them carry her back to the mountains of her forefather's.

It was late by the time she made it to the darkened streets of Hightown. She did her best to avoid the city guard, if they took her into custody, if she was taken to a cell, she might not be strong enough to leave it again.

No, she had to push on.

Her beloved's life depended on it.

She…she needed to save her husband!

So she staggered up Viscount's Way, trying to make it back to the Amell estate. If she made it, if…if she could tell Garrett Hawke what happened, then maybe she could stop fighting.

Maybe then she could go to her rest.

She could feel the dragon's claws wrapping around her, waiting to carry her soul away, but not yet…

She was not ready to go to join her lost loved ones just yet…

Not yet.

IOI

Moonlight streamed through the skylight of the Amell estate, filling the master bedroom with its clear blue brilliance.

Isabela found herself snuggling deeper into Garrett Hawke's arms, the apostate had finally dosed off again after their latest round of rutting.

Isabela ran her fingers down his bare chest, she sighed happily, after so many months of not being able to release her tensions…this…this was a welcome sense of peace.

She wanted to believe that this had been all about sex, but that was not entirely true.

For the first time, perhaps ever in her life, what she had done was not entirely physical; it had been emotional as well.

She found her thoughts drifting back to her Father, taken from her so long ago, so long ago now that it seemed to have happened in a different life. Father had believed that his daughter would one day find a man who would make her forget about him, that on that day, his Naishe would at last know peace.

Had that day finally come? Isabela was not certain; all she did know is that what she and Garrett Hawke were doing now was not simply about sex.

A small smile split the pirate queen's face.

For the first time in her life, Isabela was making love to someone.

It was a strange, wonderful, yet terrifying experience.

She rested her head on his bare chest, watching him sleep, the gentle sound of his breathing, the sweet beat of his heart singing to her.

Hawke…he had become more than just another of her lovers, he…he had become something more…something greater.

All she could ask now was…what now?

Isabela was far from the marrying kind, she imagined that she would go mad if she settled anywhere for too long, Maker, she had nearly gone mad after her first four years in this city. Plus there was still Castillon to deal with, Hawke would aid her with him if she asked him to, she was sure of it now.

_Do you need Hawke to save you now? Are you some damsel in distress? _

Isabela snorted, that little voice was quite familiar to her, reminding her of her pain and her pride.

For the first time in her life, she ignored. She had returned to Kirkwall to help Hawke, and honor her promise to Lady Leandra, and nothing was going to stop her.

She had a feeling that Hawke would feel the same about this, that he would protect her, as he had done three years ago with the Qunari.

She had not been ready to accept his help then.

She was more than ready now.

They had been sharing a bed again for almost two weeks now. Corff likely wondered what had happened to her, she returned to the Hanged man now only for a few drinks and was gone again.

Hawke had kept her busy, both inside and outside of the bedroom.

They had helped Varric cleanse his nutter brother's mansion of the last of the magic of that evil idol thing they had found in the deep roads. Poor Varric himself had almost been driven mad during that little quest, but now it was over, the last piece of the blasted thing had been dealt with by Sandal, and the matter was now closed.

They had also tried to help Merrill with her mirror problem. They had accompanied her up to the top of Sundermount so that she could converse with that demon of hers. Of course…when they arrived they found that the demon was gone, Merrill's old Keeper had taken it into herself to protect her former student from its power. A fight had broken out, and in the end, Merrill had been forced to kill the old elf, to save her from the corruption that the demon had caused.

Merrill had been heartbroken, their poor little Kitten had barely been able to walk after that fight, and then…after all was said and done, her clan had come, demanding Merrill's blood for the death of their beloved leader.

Hawke and Isabela both had stood up for the Dalish. Marethari had made a choice, to save one of her own. Isabela had feared that the argument would end in a massacre, that to save Merrill they would have to slaughter her entire clan.

Fortunately, that had not happened, the Dalish left Kirkwall, never to return, but not before they exiled Merrill for all time.

The Kitten had been inconsolable after that. Upon returning to her hovel in the Alienage she smashed the mirror. After which she had fallen to her knees, sobbing pathetically.

Neither she nor Hawke had wanted to leave their old friend alone. They feared what she might do to herself if left to her own devices. Everything that Merrill had done was to protect her people, to restore what they had lost; now…that goal was gone. Any Dalish clan that saw her would murder poor Merrill on sight.

Hawke invited her to come and stay at the estate for a few days, at least until she got back on her feet.

Merrill had nodded shyly. She had pulled Hawke into a bear hug, not wanting to let him go.

Eventually they had returned to the estate, now between Hawke's cousin, the Kitten and now her.

The old house was filling up again.

Of course…helping their friends was not the only a task they had needed to face. Hawke still had duties as the Champion after all, including fulfilling a request from Knight-Commander Meredith.

She had helped Hawke hunt down those escaped mages for the Templar bitch. The elf and the girl from Darktown were both death, the former a blood mage the latter an abomination. The third one, Emil…something or other, had escaped; Hawke had told him to take the money his family had given him and get out of Kirkwall if he valued his life. The boy had been no threat to any one; he had spent his whole life in the circle, and had adopted the apostate moniker just so he could impress the girls.

Isabela had held her tongue, so many snide and lude comments came to mind, but considering that she was bedding an apostate herself…

Did she really have room to talk?

Knight Commander Meredith had bought the story, or at least seemed to have bought it, the boy was gone, and she had two dead maleficar to parade in front of the nobles. Did she believe Hawke had let the boy go, possibly, but she could not prove it, and that was all that mattered?

Isabela yawned, Hawke's warmth, along with the softness of their bed was making her drowsy. She snuggled into his arms, getting ready to drift off to sleep.

A sound outside changed all that, the breaking of glass, the sound of a door being battered and forced open.

Isabela was suddenly wide awake, and so was Hawke.

Maker save any who stood in their way.

IOI

Hawke's eyes opened, years of living on the run alerted him to such warnings.

When he was little, his family had feared a night raid by Templars, though that was unlikely here in Kirkwall, given his champion status, it was not impossible.

Of course, he had more enemies than simple Templars these days, far more.

Isabela sprang out of bed as Hawke bounded to his feet; his staff was in hand with single gesture.

Isabela scooped up her blades, but not before she slipped on her shift.

"I can fight naked if I have to," she said with a smirk, "but why give our enemies a show they don't deserve?"

Garrett chuckled.

He pulled on a pair of lounging pants, and carefully opened the door,

The house had gone silent again.

Garrett reached out with his magic, trying to sense if something was amiss. As the champion he had many enemies, but none were so brazen to attack him in his home.

The two lovers made their way down the stairs.

Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana knew what to do if anyone broke in; they were to lock themselves in their rooms until Hawke gave the all clear. Charade was not at home, and he had given Merrill something to help her sleep, it was likely that the Dalish even heard any of the noise.

Garrett's brow furrowed, that might have been a mistake on his part.

Brazen and Rabbit stood before the kitchen door, they were not growling, but clearly waiting for someone, the door leading into the kitchen was still shut.

Hawke and Isabela had checked all the other entrances before coming here. They were all locked up tight, whoever had broken in, likely had come through here, and since there was no sign of intruders anywhere else in the house, then Hawke assumed that they must still be in there.

Hawke motioned for Isabela to stand off to the side, if an attacker tried to jump him when he opened the door, the pirate queen would be ready. She pulled her blades and waited for him to give the signal.

Hawke nodded, the pirate queen signaled that she was ready.

He flung open the door!

The kitchen was a mess. The door kicked in, one of the cabinets tipped over, with broken crockery all over the floor.

In the middle of all of that, lay a body, an armored figure lay groaning on his side, a fit of weak coughs caused him to spray blood and spit on the tile floor.

Garrett approached cautiously; he could not see the warrior's face in the dim light.

"Do not move," Garrett ordered.

The figure coughed loudly.

"That…that won't be…a…a problem I think," the figure wheezed.

Garrett's eyes widened, he…he knew that voice; it had been a while but…

He gestured to the candles around the kitchen…they all sprang to life.

He kneeled down examining their unexpected guest.

"Arika," he whispered, "What is going on?"

The reaver turned grey warden coughed loudly, a cough that turned into a weak groan. The blond looked terrible, her face covered with blisters, her skin pale and clammy.

She looked up at Hawke with milky eyes.

"Hawke," she gasped, "Help me…help us…Carv…Carver is…"

The reaver's eyes rolled back into her head.

She lapsed into unconsciousness.

Hawke told Isabela to get Bodahn.

He feared that they did not have much time.

IOI

Morning saw the arrival of the rest of Hawke's flock at his home. Aveline, Varric, Sebastian, Anders, Merrill, Isabela, and even Fenris, with Lin at his side, the warden had been getting ready to return to her duties in Ansburg, but now...

Now it seemed that they had another problem.

Anders inspected Arika, the reaver was still running a high fever, and healing magic was doing little to help with the blisters and sores.

Anders came to the same conclusion that Garrett had last night.

The sickness that the reaver had contracted was not natural.

It was magical in origin, which suggested that mages were involved, likely blood mages.

Garrett's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Arika would not have come this close to Kirkwall on her own, Carver would have been with her, and if that was the case. If Carver was as sick as Arika was…

He…he might be…

Hawke did not need to finish that thought.

Carver was tough…he…he would not go down without a fight!

Garrett turned to Lin, as a fellow Grey Warden she knew where Carver and Arika might have stopped for the night, Anders did not think the reaver could not have made it far in her condition, if she and Carver had been attack outside of the city, it should be possible to find out where, and with luck find out what happened to Carver.

The elf agreed to help, Carver was one of her best friends, and even if he wasn't he was still a warden.

Wardens took care of their own.

Anders agreed to stay with Arika, along with Sebastian and Aveline, they would make sure whoever did this did not come back to finish the job. As for Hawke and the others, they made the journey out of the city, to try and find out what had happened to Arika and Carver.

What they found out there….

It would shake Hawke to his very core.

IOI

Lin was very good at her job, it did not take her long to pick up on Arika's trail, and follow it back to warden camp outside the city.

They arrived to find the camp in shambles, blood and broken tents. No bodies remained, so Hawke assumed whoever had done this had taken them with them.

Worst of all, there was no sign of his brother anywhere.

Garrett cursed.

What had Carver gotten himself into now?

Merrill offered to help Hawke with a location spell, a drop of his blood, could be used to locate anyone of the Hawke bloodline.

"I thought you gave up blood magic Kitten?" Isabela said.

Merrill lowered her ears in shame.

"But we have to find Carver don't we?' she said, "this spell can do that I' m sure it can…"

"Don't waste your time sister," an unfamiliar voice said behind them, "The warden is gone, and will likely be shielded from such things now."

Hawke spun his staff at the ready. His fellows drew their weapons.

The speaker did not even try to hide from them. He simple stood there, with an amused look on his face.

A lone elf, dressed in black robes faced them; a symbol that Garrett did not recognize graced the front of his chest plate. He wore a sword, but had not drawn it.

Merrill took one look at that symbol and gasped.

"Sweet Creators no!" she cried.

"You know this man Merrill," Hawke asked.

"I know what he is," she whimpered, "A servant of the world-ender, he…he is one of the children of Fen'Harel."

The male elf smiled.

"Care to elaborate Daisy?" Varric asked.

"A cult Varric," Merrill said glaring coldly, "an evil, evil cult."

The male elf chuckled.

"That is funny coming from a blood mage," he laughed, "Betrayer of your own kind."

Merrill looked like she was ready to blast him into ashes.

Only Hawke stopped her.

"What do you want elf?" the champion demanded.

The elf's ears twitched with amusement.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last champion," he said with a sardonic bow, "Our mistress has been expecting you."

"And who might your mistress be?" Hawke asked.

The cultist smirked.

"The Avatar of Fen'Harel of course."

IOI

Lin's response to this news was as quick as it was brutal.

She tackled the cultist, her daggers at his throat.

"YOU'RE LYING!" she shouted, "THE AVATAR IS DEAD! SHE DIED WITH MY BROTHER IN ANSBURG!"

"Are you certain?' the cultist chuckled.

She pressed the blade to his throat.

"LIN STOP!" Hawke ordered.

"He is lying Hawke," she growled, "He is probably behind this; his blasted cult probably took Carver!"

"I'm not lying," he said, "And if you don't believe me, you can ask my friends."

Lin did not look up, but she did not have to.

The sound of growling filled her ears.

From the sand dunes around them, from the rocks below them…they rose, the cultist's allies.

Elves in dark robes, all drawing weapons, but they were not the worst.

That title belonged to the werewolves.

Massive and muscular, the creatures were covered with mangy fur, eyes that glowed like emeralds, claws like razors and teeth dripping with saliva.

Varric chuckled.

"Told you there were werewolves out here Hawke," he said.

Hawke glared at the new arrivals, a spell already on his lips.

If these monsters had taken his brother…

"Stand down, all of you."

The voice was cold and authorative, Hawke was surprised that it came from a cultist who was not an elf, he was, in fact a human, a human with familiar features and a very familiar tattoo on his bearded chin.

Lin's copper-colored eyes widened.

"Arin?" she asked.

"Who?" Hawke said.

"Arika's brother," the archer answered, "Arin what are you doing with the children of Fen'Harel? Where did these werewolves come from?"

The male reaver sighed.

He looked right at Garrett.

"My beloved wishes to speak with you Champion," he said, "She guarantees the safety of both you and your friends, but you must come to parlay with her now."

Hawke looked at Lin; she clearly still did not believe any of this.

Hawke sighed, if he was going to find Carver, if these cultists could help him…

He…he had to trust them.

"I'll go with you," he promised, "but if you break your word…"

The reaver laughed.

"I would have to answer to my sister as well as you believe me," he said, "Is she alright, or has her soul returned to our beloved mountains?"

"She is alive," Hawke said, "Sick and weak, but alive."

"Praise the dragons," the reaver sighed.

He motioned for Hawke to follow him, the others stayed behind.

"Is it far?" Garrett asked him.

"No," the reaver replied, he gave Hawke a strange look.

This…this will be painful for you, but I suggest you listen to what my love has to tell you, believe me, she means you no harm."

"Garrett looked at him.

"What do you mean this will be painful?" he asked.

Arin pursed his lips.

"You will see."

IOI

He led Hawke to a small tent not far from the road; two more werewolves stood guard outside of it.

Arin paused at the entrance.

"She would like to see you alone," he said.

"Can I at least ask her name?" Garrett said, "So that I can address her properly."

"You can refer to her as Avatar, but as for her real name…you already know it, as she knows you Garrett Hawke."

He glared at the reaver.

"I don't like games or riddles reaver,' he snarled.

"And I am not playing any," Arin said, "Enter the tent and you shall see she means you no harm."

The champion sighed; it seemed that he had no choice.

If he was going to find Carver, he needed to trust these people.

He entered the tent.

Arin remained outside, waiting.

IOI

The tent was dark, the only illumination came from was a pair of candles. He made out a small table and what appeared to be a bed of furs.

He let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

"Okay," he said, "I'm here, enough with the tricks."

He heard a woman giggle, it…it sounded very familiar.

"You used to like tricks Rett," a woman's voice said, "I was only trying to make you feel more at home."

It was then that he noticed the Avatar; the woman seemed to melt out of the shadows.

His eyes widened in surprise. He had to admit, he expected to be meeting with an elf.

The Avatar was clearly human; her armor was black with green highlights and tuffs of wolf fur. In its own way it reminded him a little of Flemeth, the witch of wilds had been similarly clad, not identical but close.

He reached out with his magic, the being before him was extremely powerful, unlike anything he had felt before.

Powerful, but strangely familiar.

The Avatar gestured the light in the tent rose, it revealed his mysterious host, she wore a hooded cloak with a wolf shaped mask over her features. Mint-green eyes glowed from beneath the masks eye sockets.

She gave him an impish smile.

"You look good," she said, "Life in Kirkwall seems to agree with you."

"And you are?" he asked.

She giggled again.

"You don't remember me?' she pouted, "I'm shocked."

"I think I would remember meeting an Avatar of Fen'Harel." he said.

I wasn't always an Avatar," she said, "But thanks to my immortal father, the will of the Maker, and dear Carver, I'm once again free to live my life, and what a life it is."

What does Carver have to do with this?" he demanded.

The Avatar smiled.

He glared at her.

"Take off your hood, your mask."

"Are you certain?" she asked, "My face may shock you."

The champion laughed.

"After the things I've seen in Kirkwall," he chuckled, "that would be quite difficult."

"But not impossible," she said, "As you shall see."

"ENOUGH!" he spat, "Just…"

"Very well," she sighed, "but don't say that I did not warn you."

The Avatar flipped back her hood, revealing long raven colored hair, it tumbled down to the small of her back.

With a slow and deliberate motion she removed her mask, she held Garrett's gaze with one of her own.

The champion gasped, his jaw almost hit the floor.

The Avatar smiled.

"I warned you," she said.

"It," Garrett stammered, he…he still could not believe it; he shook his head, calling on his magic to dispel any glamours that this avatar had cast.

It did no good, the Avatar still stood before him.

"It…it isn't possible," he whispered, "You…you can't be…"

"It is possible," she said warmly, "I'm sorry that it has taken this long Rett, but I was not ready to reveal myself to you, until now."

She walked up to him; her finger's lightly brushed his face, much as she had done when they were children.

He swallowed hard.

He whispered her name, a name he thought he would never say again, not to her anyway.

"Beth? Beth is that really you."

The Avatar giggled.

"Yes brother," Bethany Hawke said with a smile, "I have returned to you."

She held her arms out dramatically.

"Ta Da."


	14. The Avatar

**Chapter 14: The Avatar**

Garrett Hawke was speechless. He had thought he had seen everything by now, Kirkwall had thrown things at him that he never expected to see. Demons, darkspawn, witches, Maker…he had even fought one of the original Magisters once, one of the betrayers who had invaded the Black City so many centuries ago.

Nothing however…could have prepared him for this.

This woman…this…this Avatar…he reached out with his magic, touching her, he could sense the incredible powers that she wielded, powers that even dwarfed his own, but at the heart, deep within her core…

He sensed something familiar, something he had thought lost to him forever.

He felt his sister's magic reach out to him; he felt her reach out to him, just as she had done when they were children.

_But it wasn't Bethany! __**Bethany had died almost seven years ago!**__ He still remembered her death like it had happened yesterday._

The ogre reaching down, its strong fingers crushing her frail form, pounding her against the ground like a tent spike, and then tossing her away like some broken doll, he…he remembered it all.

Bethany had been gone, he had felt her die, and yet…yet…

Here she stood before him, as if all that had never happened!

The Avatar flashed him an impish smile, she seemed more than a little bit amused by his reaction to her.

His eyes narrowed in distrust, distrust and hate!

How dare this…this…whatever it was mock his sister's memory like this!

The avatar frowned.

"Carver told me that you use blood magic now. Father would tan your hide if he was here, and he almost nearly was," the Avatar smirked, "Can you imagine…our Father…the Avatar of Fen'Harel. He would have been…"

Hawke had heard enough!

He released a power mind blast spell, it flung the Avatar to the ground, and before she could rise he was on top of her straddling her bully-style.

A small dagger was pressed to her throat.

"LIAR!" he spat, "**Demoness!** How dare you profane my sister's memory! How dare you pretend to be her!"

The avatar did something then that he did not expect.

She laughed at him.

"Oh brother," she giggled, "So terrible…soooo terrifying, you **are** trying to scare me. Don't waste your time, Fen'Harel is the lord of nightmares, and I his only child. Fear is my ally, I don't scare easily."

She sneered at him.

"Still…I don't think you have it in you. I might be frightened if I actually believed you would harm me. Tell me brother, after what happened all those years ago, can you serious just kill me…again?"

It was the word again that got to him, made him angrier than he had ever been.

He got up in her face; they were now nose to nose, his golden brown eyes staring into her light green ones.

"You're not Bethany," he growled, "My sister is dead."

"Yet here I am."

"**You're not her!"**

"How can you be so sure?"

She smiled at him.

"Magic can do many things brother."

He almost beat her head against the ground.

"It can't bring back the dead!"

"The body I inhabit was never dead brother; it never truly lived until I was placed in side of it."

"Quit calling me brother!" he demanded, "Call me that again and I…I will..."

He could not say what he would do.

That was how angry he was.

She rolled her eyes.

"Is it so hard to believe?" she asked, "Can't you just accept that there are magics that you don't necessarily understand!"

He almost growled at her then. He did not see why she continued on with this farce.

"Magic cannot…bring back… the dead."

He choked back a sob, for a moment he was back in that dark chamber beneath the Lowtown refinery, the undead thing that had been their mother tottering into his arms, tottering and dying a final death because the monster that had held her prisoner was now dead!

_Magic could give the appearance of life, but it could not create it…could not sustain it._

"Magic cannot do that, not completely, when that bastard took our…my Mother…she…she couldn't."

The champion found himself near tears. He hated that she had manipulated him like this, he hated that she had made him doubt everything he knew to be right about magic.

He hated her, this nightmare, this imposter!

At the mention of Mother, the Avatar's smile fell away, her hand came up to stroke his cheek as Bethany had done so many times when they were small.

"I wish I could take away that pain Rett," she said, "I feel it to, I…I wish that I could see our Mother again, that she was alive right now so that I could hug her one last time, to let her know that what happened in Ferelden was not her fault."

"Stop it," he growled, "Damn you just stop it! You never met my Mother!"

The Avatar sighed.

"I swear to you brother. It. Is. Me. Carver needed a soul to place inside the Avatar's body. The elvhen mage that summoned it would have gladly placed some mad ancient elvhen priest inside this shell, but Carver beat him, he called on someone he wanted to see again, someone he hoped would use my powers wisely."

She smiled at him.

"He chose me."

IOI

Garrett tightened the blade against her neck; the Avatar gasped, but did not call out for aid. She did not doubt that her magic could save her if she used it, but she would not hurt Garrett.

"If you are really my sister, then why have you waited so long to contact me? Why did you not let me know that you were alive?"

She snorted.

"Would you have believed me, or would we have ended up exactly where we are now. You…with a blade at my throat, you would not have accepted it then and you likely will not accept me now, but Carver is in danger, and you damn well will let me help you save our brother."

She glared angrily at him.

"I thought of writing you when I was locked up in Ansburg, writing a letter with facts that only we would know, things that Carver himself did not know."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because Commander Cesare would never have allowed it, if you had shown up in Ansburg demanding to speak to me, he would have denied my very existence. Carver would have vouched for me, possibly Arika too, but then the Commander likely would have killed you all, and made up some lie to me about what happened."

She sneered at the very memory of the foolish crow prince.

"He believed himself my superior. He thought that my power was his to command and that I would spend my life destroying his enemies. He was wrong, but he hurt me Garrett, he hurt Carver, Arika, and Lin."

Bethany sighed.

"Lin had a little brother, a mage, like I was, I was going to make him the greatest elvhen mage this world had ever seen, and Cesare murdered him, he used the woman he loved, a friend I trusted and respected and killed him right before my eyes."

Tears ran down Bethany's face.

"You would have liked Solen I think, he came to believe what Father had taught us. That our magic should serve what is best in us, not which is most base. I still hold true to those beliefs Rett, you did too…once."

Garrett Hawke whimpered, he…he wanted to believe this…to believe that Bethany was alive again, and his greatest failure had been corrected, but he knew that was not true.

"You're not really her," he said.

Bethany sniffed.

"I'm everything that she was brother, plus what my immortal Father made me. The Dalish call me the world ender, but that is simply not so, not in the way they fear anyway."

She gave him a sly smile.

I want to give the elvhen people a new world, a home of their own. A place where all are welcome, elves, humans, and dwarves, a better world with no boundaries, protected by me, and mine.

"The kind of world our Father would have wanted, a place where people do not have to fear."

Her green eyes narrowed.

"I'm tired of arguing with you. Either cut my throat, or remove the blade. We are wasting time here, time that our brother may not have."

The champion did not know how to respond, he…he wanted to help Carver, but this…this thing. Whatever it was…

He was not sure.

Andraste guide him. He was so confused.

She sighed.

"I have an idea," she said, "You are a blood mage now, yes? Try reading my mind, my thoughts will verify everything that I have told you."

"I don't like those powers," he said, "The blood spells I use are only as a last resort."

"Then you're not completely lost," she sighed, "That is good, but we are out of time brother. Use your powers, I shall offer up no resistance. Learn the truth about me so that we can move on."

Garrett Hawke sighed; he feared that one day he would go too far with his blood magic. The powers that Merrill possessed had nearly destroyed her.

Would he follow her down that path?

He tried to cling to what his father had taught him, to remain true to the ideal of what was best in him, but it was very hard for him now.

Now the Avatar was tempting him with the truth he sought. All he had to do was have the strength to reach out and take it.

He let out s shuddering breath.

"This will likely hurt you," he warned.

"I'm no stranger to pain brother," she said, "Just find your answers and be done with it."

She felt the blade come away from her neck. She nodded one last time, offering him both permission and her sympathy.

He took the blade and slashed his forearm; blood flowed from the wound, flowed and wafted into the air like smoke.

Bethany did her best not to struggle; she had no desire to be hurt, but would not hid e the truth from him.

This was the only way.

IOI

Her mind collided with his, the memories and experiences of both wrapped together as the two experience the last few years of their lives.

She felt him watch her die at the hands of the Ogre.

She was there when he stood on the bow of the ship that brought them into Kirkwall for the first time.

Then she was in the deep roads, watching Carver sicken with the Blight sickness, watched as he gave Carver to the grey wardens.

Then they were together beneath Kirkwall, holding their mother in their arms, watching as the light faded from her eyes.

_Oh…oh brother…I'm so sorry!_

Then he was atop Sundermount, feeling himself being reborn, feeling Fen'Harel's power and love wrapping around him.

He remembered teaching Solen magic, talking and laughing with Tavia. Fearing Cesare's anger, and finally rising above that, taking up the full mantle of the Avatar.

He remembered standing with Carver, embracing him, and promising that she would be there when he needed her.

_Bethany…Beth…it is really you._

He heard her laugh.

_I told you._

So many faces spun through their minds.

Solen, Arika, Tavia, Arin, Nug, Lin, Carver, Stroud…

Merrill, Fenris, Varric, Aveline, Isabela, Anders…

Loki, Siobhan, Cesare…

The Arishok, Quentin, Corypheus…

So much love.

So much hate.

Heroes, friends, villains, enemies, all blended together, and at the core of it all…

…Was love.

He felt his sister's love for Arin, the reaver who had captured her heart, a savage warrior with a kind and gently heart, the first to see her as a woman, and not a weapon.

She felt his love for Isabela, his beautiful pirate queen. Through his eyes he saw what no one else saw, that there was more to Isabela then violence and sex.

They both saw what the other wanted, and were shocked to see that they…in this one moment wanted the same thing.

They wanted to save Carver.

IOI

Garrett gasped.

He had broken the connection, but still he could not help but feel a little giddy.

Maker… what a rush!

Bethany giggled.

"You can get off me now brother," she smirked.

He staggered to his feet, offering her a hand up.

Smiling she took it.

The two mages looked at each other, what they had experienced had both shaken them to their cores, but they had both survived.

…And were stronger because of it!

"I'm sorry sis," he said, "Forgive me, I did not see."

She gave him that impish Fen'Harel smile.

"I don't blame you brother, but the time for words is quickly passing, we must be ready to help Carver."

The Champion nodded. He would put Varric's contacts to work; if Carver was out there somewhere…they would find him.

He smiled at the avatar.

"You married a reaver?"

She giggled.

"I was Carver's twin," she reminded him, "Is it so surprising we would have similar tastes."

Hawke chuckled, an idea occurred to him.

"Would you like to see the estate sister?"

Bethany grinned; she offered her arm to her elder brother.

He took it and led them out of her camp.

The werewolves bowed as she passed.

"What about these?" Garrett asked.

"They will be ready when we need them," she promised, "for now…I want to see our Mother's home with my own eyes. She always told us such good stories about that place.

His expression turned sad.

"I wish she was waiting for us there."

"So do I brother," she sighed, "So do I."


	15. A Sister's Welcome

**Chapter 15: A Sister's Welcome**

Hawke and Bethany returned to the others. The rest of Hawke's companions regarded her curiously.

Merrill fell to her knees.

"The world ender," she whimpered, "Creators protect me!"

Bethany smirked.

"Do not worry little one," she purred, "I'm not looking to harm anyone, at least…anyone who has not kidnapped someone close to me."

"She means you no harm Merrill," Hawke assured the Dalish, "You can trust her."

Merrill rose; she still chose not to meet the Avatar's gaze.

Isabela grinned at her.

"Hello sweetheart," she purred.

The Avatar smiled.

"Hello Isabela," Bethany replied, "It has been a long time."

"Quite a long time," the pirate queen agreed, "I must say…you are looking well for a dead woman."

"I've been dead once before," the Avatar shrugged, "I was not looking forward to it a second time."

Bethany turned to Lin, her eyes turned sad.

"Hello Lin."

The archer glared hatefully at her.

"It is really you."

"Yes," Bethany admitted, "I'm sorry."

Lin nearly reached out and strangled the Avatar, and likely would have had her followers still not ringed them.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE ALIVE!" the warden elf spat, "Not when my brother is still dead!"

Bethany gave her a pained look.

"I mourned for Solen. He was to be the future of your people!"

"**Your** people," Lin spat, "Not mine, you don't speak for all the elves Bethany Hawke! Solen may have bought your lies, but I do not Avatar!"

"WITCH!" Fenris snarled.

Bethany smirked.

"I have been called far worse," she said, "I try not to let it bother me."

Arin growled at Fenris.

"Do not disrespect my mate, elf," he said angrily.

"Don't worry Arin," Bethany said with a wry smile, "Fenris here will not harm me, and if he tries well…"

She gave him an impish wink.

"He would make a very handsome werewolf."

Fenris's markings began to glow.

"Bethany," Garrett warned his sister.

"Sorry brother," she said, "Just having a bit of fun."

Varric coughed.

"Real ray of sunshine you are Avatar," he said quietly.

"I try to look on the bright side of things," she replied.

The Avatar turned to her servants.

"I'm going into Kirkwall with the champion," she informed them, "You will take my pack and await my orders."

"Mistress," the elves said with deep bows.

One minute Hawke and his allies were still surrounded, and the next they were alone.

It was a bit disturbing.

Bethany smiled at her brother.

"Let us enter the city," she said, "I have always wanted to see our grandparent's estate."

She and Hawke took the lead, with the others trailing behind them.

Varric looked at Hawke.

"**Our **grandparents?" Varric asked.

Hawke sighed.

"It is a long story," the champion said, "Suffice to say, the Avatar…Bethany…she…she is my sister."

"The dead one?" Varric asked.

Hawke nodded.

She isn't dead anymore apparently."

The dwarf chuckled.

"So I see."

Varric wasn't quite sure what to make of all this.

A champion, a warden, and now some magically resurrected demigod in the same family, his readers would never believe it?

He wasn't sure he believed it either?

Most would call it bullshit.

A shame, it would have made a really good story.

IOI

Hawke led Bethany and Arin back to the estate, the reaver was worried about his sister, and Bethany thought that she might be able to help.

Garrett still could not believe it.

_Bethany, she…she was truly…alive __**again.**_

He looked at Isabela.

"So you knew about this?" he asked her.

"I knew that she was in Ansburg," she replied, "I did not know that she survived Cesare the sicko's attack. Carver kept me in the dark about that as well."

Hawke shook his head; he and Carver were going to have a very long talk when they got him back…

….If they got him back.

The shadows that made up Bethany's robes and armor began to change, one minute she was dressed in fur and leather, the next she was wearing simple leggings and green blouse and long leather gloves.

The only thing that had not changed was the scarf around her neck, maroon with Andraste's holy symbol in violet.

Hawke recognized it immediately, Bethany's favorite scarf, the one she had worn the day she had…

Carver had taken it from his sister's body before they had given it to flame, to…to remember Bethany by.

He must have given it back to her in Ansburg.

If Carver had believed in her that much, that he would return Bethany's scarf to the Avatar, then he must have felt as Hawke felt now.

Bethany was the Avatar. Her face and blood was that of Malcolm Hawke, but her magic and strength was of Fen'Harel, the Dalish's dread wolf.

Bethany was truly a woman with two fathers.

She grinned at him.

"What," the Avatar said gesturing to her clothes, "I'm sure you don't want to have me walking around Kirkwall looking like a sorceress who lives among the reavers."

She smiled.

"It is what I am, but that is beside the point."

Garrett chuckled.

"You're going to have to teach me that trick," he said, "the clothes changing thing."

"It is not really changing my clothes," she said, "Just rearranging the magic and shadows that covers my body. It is an old elven discipline, one of the many things forgotten since the Tevinter enslavement."

Merrill's ears perked up at the avatar's words.

"Do…do you know many of the old ways?" she asked.

"Some," Bethany confessed, "My immortal father shared them with me when he awakened my full powers."

She gave Merrill a smile.

"I could teach you some. A gift from Fen'Harel to the Dalish folk, to show them that my father is not the monster they believe he is."

Merrill gave her a sad look.

"The people would accept nothing I have to offer," The Dalish murmured, "I'm an exile, a criminal. I'm…I'm a monster in their eyes."

Bethany gave her a sympathetic look.

"The offer still stands," she said, "We monsters have to stick together."

Merrill smiled wanly.

Garrett decided to change the subject. Merrill had spent years trying to discover ancient elvish secrets, nearly damned herself seeking them. Bethany might be able to help, but Merrill was still too vulnerable right now.

She needed time to heal after Marethari's death.

She did not need Bethany confusing her.

"So that is where you have been, living among the reavers of Nevarra?"

"For a time," Bethany confessed, "Arin took me back to meet his father, to show off his bride so to speak. I spent my time working as a healer and teaching their shamans a few basic spells."

Hawke gave Arin what could be called 'a big brother look.'

Bethany laughed.

"Arin is a good man brother," she said, "A good fighter and protector."

"That's…good."

Bethany giggled.

"He is also quite good between the sheets."

"Bethany," Garrett hissed.

"What," she said with a slight blush, "You have not been some celibate monk. I saw your lovers when we linked minds. Is it so shocking to know that I have taken one of my own?"

"No," he admitted, "But a brother does not need to hear about his little sister and lover's…private time."

Bethany smirked.

"Says the man sleeping with a pirate, Isabela does not strike me as a symbol of chastity."

"You can say that again sweetheart," Isabela smirked.

"Don't help her Isabela," Hawke gave his lover a suffering look.

The pirate chuckled.

IOI

The return back to the estate was a bit…interesting.

Aveline's jaw dropped when she saw Bethany. Hawke did not think the guard captain would remember Bethany's face after seeing her die seven years ago.

Aveline, however, had a very good memory.

She recognized his sister.

Maker help them.

"Hawke," she murmured, "That…that girl…she looks like…"

"It is complicated," Hawke explained to her, "Just know that this Bethany is not your enemy."

Aveline shook her head.

"As you say,' the guard captain said.

Bethany smiled at her.

"Ah the soldier," she said, "How are you? Still married to that Templar?"

Aveline winced.

"The Templar did not survive the escape from Ferelden Beth," Hawke murmured.

He probably should have mentioned that to her before she saw Aveline.

"Oh," Bethany said meekly, "Sorry, I…I didn't know."

Aveline shook her head, and made for the kitchen.

Bethany gave her brother a pitying look.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"It okay sweetness," Isabela said, "I'll talk to the big girl, she is just a little shocked at seeing you here."

"I get that a lot," Bethany said chagrinned.

Isabela laughed.

Arin headed up stairs with Hawke and Bethany right behind. Anders and Sebastian sat with Arika. Anders magic was having little effect on the sickness that infected Arika, and Sebastian had resulted to prayer.

Hawke found himself shocked. Anders had changed his look. Fine black dress robes, with gold piping, raven feathers made up his pauldrons, his hair pulled into a tight pony tail, his face clean shaven.

This is new, the champion thought.

The reaver kneeled at his sister's bedside.

"Who is this?" Anders asked.

"Family," Hawke responded.

Bethany entered the room.

IOI

She and Anders locked gazes.

Anders's eyes glowed blue. Magic flame flared around his pauldrons.

"**WHAT IS THAT?!"** Justice growled from within his host, "**THIS…THING IS NOT HUMAN!"**

Bethany chuckled.

"Look who is talking abomination," she purred.

Justice's fury echoed through Anders's tortured mind.

**KILL THE MONSTER, IT IS A THREAT! MORE DEMON THAN HUMAN! DESTROY THE FALSE ONE!**

Justice snarled and walked towards her.

Hawke was about to step between them.

Bethany stopped him.

Her eyes blazed with green fel fire.

She glared at Justice.

"**Demon of Vengeance, step away!"** her voice echoed with an ageless power, "**Or learn what it is to challenge the daughter of the Lord of Nightmares!"**

Justice hissed. The spirit faded back within Anders, the apostate gasped.

Bethany powered down, she gave him a polite smile.

"Thank you," she said shyly.

Anders glared sullenly at her.

"We are not a demon," he said, "We're…different."

"So am I," Bethany purred, "I guess we have something in common. _Don't we?"_

Anders glared hatefully at her.

He would not forget her…whatever she was.

IOI

Sebastian looked at the strange young woman who looked so much like Hawke.

"Is she a friend champion?" the former brother asked.

"She is family," Garrett replied, "She is here to help."

"I've done all I can for her," Anders said.

Bethany smiled.

"Let me try," she said, "I might surprise you."

Both men backed away.

IOI

Arin held his sister's hand, it was cold and clammy, her face slick with sweat, and dark with sores.

The reaver looked up at his lover.

"Can you save her Beloved?" he asked.

Bethany sighed.

"I believe so," she said, "And pay a debt to her, one I have owed for a long time. Step away for a moment, love."

Arin obeyed, in their mountains, he had seen Bethany perform miracles.

He hoped the Avatar would be able to perform one here as well.

Bethany leaned down and whispered in Arika's ear.

"You saved my life when the Dalish tried to assassinate me sister," she whispered, "I have not forgotten that, and now…now I can do the same, and more for you and Carver. I hope you both appreciate this gift. It is one that I have yet to enjoy myself."

She reached down and touched Arika's body, blue light flowed from Bethany's fingertips. The Avatar gasped as she reached out for her magic, burning away the foul magic, the blood of the maleficar that infected Arika.

The female warden gasped, her blue eyes widened.

The sores on her face vanished, her breathing became less labored.

She sank back on to the bed with a tired sigh.

Bethany breathed out, she stood, and staggered.

Arin was there, catching her.

"Thank you love," she smiled gratefully.

"I'm always your Beloved," the Reaver replied.

IOI

Arika opened her eyes. She…she felt weak, not as bad as when she had been burned by that broodmother mage years ago…but close.

She looked up into a sea of familiar faces.

Hawke, Arin, and…Bethany? What in the name of the dragons was the Avatar doing here?

"Greetings," the female reaver whispered.

Bethany nodded.

Arin gave his sister's hand a friendly squeeze.

"Praise be," the male reaver whispered, "No warrior should die so ignoble death."

Arika nodded.

She found Hawke's eyes.

"Hawke, Carver and I…we…we were attacked on the road!"

"By blood mages," Hawke said, "We know."

Arika's eyes narrowed in hate.

"Not just blood mages Hawke," she growled, "by Templars as well."

"You mean soldiers dressed as Templars?" Hawke said.

"No Hawke, Templars actual Templars!"

Anders's eyes widened, it…it sounded impossible.

_Was it even possible, blood mages and Templars fighting together…as allies?_

Hawke shook his head.

Things in Kirkwall had just gotten more complicated.

Andraste save them all.


End file.
